HE 


DRu^AmE 


F^APPAHANNOCK 


THE  UNIVERSITY  OF 

NORTH  CAROLINA 

LIBRARY 


THE  WILMER  COLLECTION 

OF  CIVIL  WAR  NOVELS 

PRESENTED  BY 

RICHARD  H.  WILMER,  JR. 


tr 


THE  ^^^99Ul^]lo 

DRUMMER-BOY 

OF   THE 

RAPPAHANNOCK; 

OR, 

TAKING  SIDES 

BY 

REV.  EDWARD  A.  RAND, 

Author    of    "Sailor-Boy   Bob,"    "When    the  War   Broke   Out; 
OR,  Sailor-Boy  Bob's  Sister,"   "  Up-the-Ladder  Club 
Series,"  "School  and  Camp  Series,"  "Fight- 
ing THE  Sea,"  "  Margie  at  the 
Harbor-Light,"  "Art 
Series,"  etc. 


N£IV  YORK:   HUNT  &=  EA  TON 
CI  NCI NN A  TI:  CRANSTON  &=  STOIVE 


Copyright,  1S89,  by 

HUNT    &    EATON, 

New  York. 


PREFACE. 


A  NUMBER  of  years  ago,  I  had  occasion  to 
prepare  for  the  Christian  Litelligencer  a 
story,  ''  Nurse  Frye,"  which  I  copyriglited  with 
the  intention  of  working  it  up  some  time  into 
book-form..  That  story  is  imbedded  in  this, 
and  it  will  account  for  any  resemblances  noticed. 
The  present  narrative,  though,  is  entirely  differ- 
ent in  its  purpose,  and  includes  the  former  only 
as  an  incidental  part. 

Let  me  state  the  purpose  of  the  book. 

Perhaps  some  boy,  some  girl,  may  get  from 
this  story  an  idea  of  what  their  fathers  and 
mothers  passed  through  when  young,  and  when 
over  the  land  brooded  the  dark  cloud  of  the 
great  Civil  War.  Some  one,  too,  may  esti- 
mate more  fairly  the  blessings  enjoyed  in  this 
land  to-day  because  slavery  crumbled  and  per- 
ished in  the  war.  One  purpose  in  this  book  is 
to  encourage  its  readers  to  promptly  take  sides, 

603193 


4  Preface. 

tlirou":li  life,  ao:aiiist  the  vvroni!:.  If  looking;  for- 
ward  to  the  time  when  the  ballot  may  lie  in 
their  hands,  may  they  resolve  that  in  its  use  they 
will  take  sides  with  the  right ;  that  it  shall  only 
lielp  establish  on  still  firmer  foundations  the 
great  principle  of  equal  rights  and  fair  play  be- 
tween man  and  man.  E.  A.  R. 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.  A  Foggy  Night  by  the  Sea 7 

II.  A  Rescue 20 

III.  One  Side  or  the  Other 40 

IV.  The  Tramp's  Disgrace 67 

V.  A  Mystery 87 

YI.  A  Beatixg  Drum 105 

VJI.  Must  Be  a  Soldier 116 

VIII.  Gilbert  Makes  a  Call 139 

IX.  A  Sorry  Recruit 154 

X.  Tracking  a  Mystery 1*74 

XL  Enlisted 1 94 

XII.  The  Furlough 199 

XIII.  By  the  Rappahannock 217 

XIV.  Fredericksburg 251 

XV.  That  Awful  Day 270 

XVI.  The  Battle-News  at  Home 278 

XVII.  In  an  Old  House 295 

XVIII.  The  Hospital  by  the  Rappahannock 313 

XIX.  In  the  Army  Log-Hut 325 

XX.  The  Negro  Cabin  in  the  LIollow 341 

XXL  Arrested 360 

XXIL  A  Hunt  in  the  Old  Distillery 371 

XXIIL  Sunshine 379 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 

in  2010  with  funding  from 

University  of  North  Carolina  at  Chapel  Hill 


http://www.archive.org/details/drummerboyofrappOOrand 


THE  DRUMMER-BOY 

OF  THE  RAPPAHANNOCK. 


CHAPTER  I. 

A  FOGGY  NIGHT  BY  THE  SEA. 

^^TT    is   an   ugly  night   along   shore,  and  no 

i   mistake." 

The  speaker,  a  young  man,   left  the   anvil, 

where  he  was  pounding  a  horseshoe,  and,  going 

to  the  door  of  the  sliop,  looked  out.     He  could 

see  nothing  overhead,  but  before  him  a  muddy 

road  was   revealed  by  the  light  of   the  forge, 

winking  and  flashing  like  a  very  red  and  very 

angry  eye,  and  in  response  the  puddles  winked 

back  a  number  of  very  red  and  very  angry  eyes. 

Some  kind  of  a  stranded  sea-monster  full    of 

eyes  seemed  to  be  out  in  the  road.     If  it  had 

been  day,  one  would  have  seen  a  quantity  of 

light  gray  fog  hanging  down  in  weird  confusion 

from  the  branches  of  the  pines.     The  sea  mist 

had  trailed  its  delicate  skirts  across  the  trees, 

and  thoy  were  sadly  torn.     Though  there  was 


8         Drummer- Boy  of  the  Rappahannock. 

an  ominous  drip,  drip,  in  every  direction,  still 
no  rain  at  the  time  was  falling.  The  roar  of 
the  sea,  live  liundred  feetaway,  had  no  difficulty 
in  penetrating  tlie  thin,  unsubstantial  wall  of 
vapor.  The  young  man  now  came  back  into 
the  crimson  light  flaring  from  the  forge  fire. 

"  An  ugly  night,  thougli  only  a  foggy  one," 
he  said. 
"Yes." 

This  answer  was  a  growl.  Because  it  was  a 
word  you  knew  it  was  a  man — but  the  kind  of 
voice  suggested  that  it  might  be  a  dog — in  a 
dark  corner.  You  could  see  nothing.  The  dog 
growled  again  :  "  Say !  " 
"What?" 

"Don't  you  think  such  nights  are  fearful 
risky  on  the  sea  ? " 

The  dog  now  rose  out  of  the  shadows,  and, 
stepping  forward,  turned  into  a  man  as  the  light 
fell  upon  him.  He  M'as  a  man  of  strong  muscu- 
lar build.  His  beard  was  dark  and  it  half  covered 
his  face.  His  eyes  had  a  kindly  sparkle  to  them, 
and  as  he  chanced  to  lift  a  black  felt  hat  much 
battered,  like  a  ship  long  at  sea,  he  showed  a  fnll, 
white  forehead  that  said,  "  I  may  seem  rough,  and 
my  dress  may  be  poor,  but  there's  much  of  a  man 
inside."  He  was  dressed  in  a  blue  army  blouse, 
and  in  light  gray  pants  much  frayed  at  the  bottom. 


A  Foggy  Night  by  the  Sea.  9 

"Now,  don't  you  think  so?"  He  had  cleared 
his  tliroat,  and  the  dog-growl  had  gone. 

"  I  do  certainly,"  replied  his  companion, 
pounding  very  positively  the  iron  on  the  anvil. 

"  1  was  coming  down  the  road  to-night, 
tramping,  you  know,  from  the  last  town,  and  I 
tried  to  make  out  some  sort  of  light  at  sea,  but 
I  couldn't.  Every  thing  was  sponged  out  by 
the  mist.  Then  I  heard  the  horns  of  the  fishing- 
smacks,  and  I  heard  quite  a  tooting  once  more 
as  if  somebody  was  in  trouble,  but  I  could  see 
nothing." 

There  was  silence.  After  a  little  while  the 
stranger  spoke  again.  "  Seems  to  mc  you  are  fit 
for  better  work  than  this— though  pounding  is 
good  enough  work  in  itself,"  and  here  the  speaker 
looked  admiringly  on  the  young  blacksmith. 

Young  Forrest  Frye  was  evidently  pleased  to 
be  noticed,  and  there  were  grounds  for  the  com- 
pliment. He  was  not  of  the  large,  stalwart  class, 
but  his  frame  was  well  shapen,  and  his  step  had 
a  quick  elastic  spring  to  it.  The  blue  eyes,  that 
looked  from  under  a  low  fringe  of  brown  curls, 
flashed  with  a  frankness,  decision,  and  energy 
always  characteristic  of  him. 

The  stranger  pulled  away  at  his  vest  pocket 
and  took  out  a  grimy  relic  of  many  tough  jour- 
neys.    "  My  smoking  trouble  you  '(  " 


10         Drummer- Boy  of  the  Rappahannock, 

"  O,  no." 

"  Perhaps  j^ou'll  join  me." 
''  I  knocked  off.  the  first  of  the  year.    A  friend 
rather  wanted  me  to,"  and  he  added  to  himself, 
"  and   I  declare  if  she  isn't  here  now !     Hullo, 
Nanny  ! "  he  said,  in  a  loud  voice  of  welcome. 

The  young  woman  who  now  stepped  forward 
into  the  crimson  light  had  a  face  that  interested 
you  at  once.  It  is  true  that  her  complexion 
was  very  fair,  and  the  lines  of  the  face  even  and 
regular.  She  had  charms,  though,  that  no  reg- 
ularity of  outline  alone  could  give  the  face.  Her 
soft,  clear  hazel  eyes  shone  v,-ith  a  warmth  and 
a  truth  that  indicated  the  ready  and  steadfast 
f)-iend  through  all  trials.  It  was  when  she  spoke 
that  another  of  Nanny's  charms  disclosed  itself. 
"  I  had  rather  hear  Nanny  talk  than  hear  other 
folks  sing,"  was  Skipper  Bowser's  opinion.  Her 
voice  had  a  peculiarly  musical  intonation,  so  that 
its  very  utterance  was  a  song,  and  whenever  it 
sounded  it  had  a  quality  of  sympathy  that  went 
te)  the  heart  as  well  as  the  ear. 

"  Is  the  cap'n  coming  down,  Nanny  ? " 
"  I  don't  know,  Forrest.     It  looks  ugly  out  to 
sea." 

"  Looks  \     Can  you  see  any  thing  ? " 
"  No ;  and  for  that  reason  I  call  it  an  ugly 
night.     Father  says  when  you  can't  see  the  light 


A  Fo(j(iu  Ni'jht  h>j  the  Sea. 


11 


on  'Eagged  P'int,'  you  iniglit  as  well  conclude, 
first  as  last,  that  the  niglit  is  a  bad  one  for  some- 
body at  sea." 

"If  you  are  going  up  home,  Nanny,  you 
might  say  to  your  father  that  he  need  not  couie 
down.  The  few  iiorseshoes  that  I  wanted  to 
pound  on  to-night  are  about  done.  That  will 
give  him  a  longer  time  to  rest." 

"Perhaps  my  smoking  is  offensive  to  the 
young  lady." 

At  this  voice  I^anny  looked  up  with  a  startled 
air,  not  having  seen  the  man  who  had  seemed  a 
huge  pillar  of  shadow  in  one  corner  of  the  shop, 
where  he  had  converted  himself  into  a  small- 
sized  Etna  well  at  work. 

"I  beg  your  pardon,  but  I  suppose  I  am  too 
fond  of  this  old  friend  always  to  notice  who  may 
be  round.  I  sometimes  think  I  could  part  with 
a  good  deal  before  I  could  give  up  this."  He 
here  took  from  his  mouth  the  blackened  stump 
of  a  pipe  and  courteously  packed  the  dirty  little 
volcano  in  his  vest  pocket. 

"  He  is  civil,"  thought  Nanny  ;  "  and,  after  all, 
smoking  has  not  made  him  so  selfish  as  some 
people  who  dress  better." 

"  But  it  is  not  so  bad  as  drink,"  murmured 
the  man. 

"  You  are  right  there,"  said  Nanny. 


12       Drummer- Boy  of  the  Rappaliannock. 

This  encouraged  liiin. 

"  You  may  think  it  queer  in  me  to  talk  so, 
but  you  seem  like  folks  who  know  and  do  what 
is  about  right.  I  would  give  a  good  deal  if  I 
could  let  liquor  alone." 

"  Have  you  really  tried,  sir  ?  tried  hard  ? "  asked 
Xanny. 

"  Yes,  I  think  so.  It  has  been  so  hard  a  try 
that  I  have  been  tempted  to  make  away  with 
myself,"  said  the  man  pitifully. 

"  Plo ! "  exclaimed  Nanny  in  a  tone  that  was 
impatient  and  bordered  on  a  rebuke.  "  That  is 
a  temptation  of  the  devil." 

The  man  may  have  feared  that  the  conversa- 
tion was  getting  too  personal,  and  it  might  in- 
volve him  in  unpleasant  confessions.  He  shrank 
from  that  issue,  and  dodged  it  by  suddenly  ask- 
ing the  question,  "  Who  made  the  devil  ? " 
There  was  a  theological  twinkle  in  liis  dark  eyes; 
an  air  of  triumph,  too,  as  if  he  had  captured 
his  captor.  Nanny  did  not  dodge  the  question, 
but  resolutely  took  the  bull  by  the  horns — or,  in 
this  case,  the  snake  by  the  tail. 

"  If  there  be  a  devil,  and  I  think  the  Bible 
says  so,  then  God  made  the  soul  of.  the  devil, 
but  he  did  not  make  him  a  devil.  God  made 
him  innocent,  and  his  character  was  something 
he  afterward  took  on  liimself." 


A  Fofjgy  K'lgJit  by  the  Sea.  13 

"Well — well,"  said  the  man,  evidently  relish- 
ing his  thought,  and  smacking  his  li}3S  as  if  tast- 
ing a  peach,  "  could  not  God  have  lixed  it  so 
that  things  shouldn't  have  turned  out  as  they 
have?  Then  why  didn't  he,  miss?"  Again 
there  was  an  air  of  triumph,  as  if  in  the  chase 
he  had  turned  and  lassoed  his  pursuer.  Be- 
sides, he  was  cool,  and  at  ease.  Nanny  had  some 
warmth  of  manner;  a  seeming  impatience  of 
contradiction. 

"  See  here,  sir.  I  want  to  answer  that  ques- 
tion by  asking  another.  Can  you  think  of  any 
better  way  for  us  to  be  created  than  as  thinking 
and  voluntary  beings — that  is,  having  a  will  to 
choose  between  things  ? " 

"  O,  I  know  what  you  mean,"  and  his  asser- 
tion of  knowledge  gave  a  slight  tone  of  conceit 
to  his  words.  "  Of  course,  of  course,"  he  added, 
and  then  he  spoke  slowly,  a  little  embarrassed,  as 
if  he  saw  what  was  coming,  and  knew  it  would 
damage  him,  like  a  timid  base-baller  afraid  that  a 
shot  for  the  eye  may  be  approaching,  "  of  course 
we  must  be  voluntary  beings.  We  must  be  able 
to  choose  between  good  and  evil.  If  not,  we  are 
no  better  than  the  briites." 

"  Does  not  this  follow,  then  :  God,  while  he 
made  the  devil  innocent,  gave  him  the  distin- 
guishing   mark    of  an   intelligent   being  —  the 


U        Drummer-Boy  of  the  Rappahannock. 

power  to  choose  ?  Having  that  power,  he  chose 
evil  and  began  his  wicked  career.  Now  I  think 
it  is  best  to  stop  there,  and  not  try  to  bother  our 
brains  any  more  about  it ;  spending  our  strength 
in  getting  out  of  sin  rather  than  iu  trying  to 
expkiin  it." 

"  Yes,  yes,"  he  murmured. 

"  Haven't  you  heard  about  beating  down  Satan 
under  our  feet  ?  " 

"Oyes!" 

''  Do  you  believe  it  ?  Are  you  trying  for  it  ? 
We  ought  to  try."  And  she  stamped  her  little 
foot  with  a  sovereign  energy. 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  catching  her  enthusiasm, 
"  I  would  like  to  give  that  old  enemy  a  tussle ; 
but,"  he  added,  in  a  discouraged  voice,  "he 
is  so  awful  spry  that  he  turns  amazin'  quick  on 
you." 

Forrest  had  been  so  interested  in  this  conver- 
sation that  he  suffered  the  forge  flame  to  sink 
lower  and  lower,  till  the  only  light  in  the  shop 
was  shed  by  a  very  drowsy  lantern  on  a  shelf. 
"When  the  conversation  halted,  only  the  splut- 
tering of  the  forge  Are  and  the  dull,  mutfled 
mumblings  of  the  sea  were  audible.  This  halt 
was  not  a  long  one,  for  the  stranger  cleared 
his  throat  of  several  disagreeable  "  hems,"  and 
started  once  more. 


A  Fuggy  Night  by  the  Sea.  15 

"  ]!^ow,  if  God  fixes  every  thing  so  nicely  as 
you  tliiiilc,  what  did  he  sillier  this  infernal  war 
to  be  let  loose  for?  Couldn't  he  have  stopped 
all  this  clatter  ? " 

Nanny's  white  brow  began  to  wrinkle  as  if 
she  did  not  care  to  have  this  subject  introduced. 
With  the  wrinkling  of  the  brow  came  a  sharp, 
uneasy  look  at  Forrest. 

"All  this  fuss  about  so-called  'niggers!'" 
muttered  the  tramp.  "  I  don't  call  them 
so." 

Forrest's  eyes  flashed. 

"Fuss!"  he  repeated.  "About  time  there 
should  be  a  fuss.  Here  we  have  been  tram- 
pling on  the  black  man  for  generations.  I  don't 
knov/  but  it  is  a  judgment  God  is  sending  on 
us." 

The  tramp's  face  quickly  brightened.  He 
seemed  pleased  to  have  an  expression  of  opin- 
ion from  tl^e  young  blacksmith.  Perhaps- he 
liad  been  waiting  to  get  at  Forrest's  ideas,  for 
several  times  during  his  talk  with  Nanny  he 
had  turned  away  and  looked  at  Forrest,  as  if 
anxious  to  hear  an  opinion  from  him. 

"  Tlien  you  believe  *  the  nigger,'  as  some  folks 
say,  is  at  the  bottom  of  this  fuss  ? "  the  man  said, 
eagerly. 

Forrest  hesitated. 
2 


16       Drummer-Boy  of  the  Rappahannock. 

Nannj  spoke  for  him,  her  usually  silvery 
voice  sharpening  into  tones  of  indignation : 
"Not  the  iSegro,  but  the  wliite  man's  sin;  his 
abominable  selfishness.  It  might  have  been  a 
yellow  man  instead  of  a  black  man,  and  the 
trouble  wouldn't  have  been  the  color  of  his  skin 
but  the  white  man's  awful  selfishness.  That  is 
where  the  trouble  is.  That  is  the  thing  at  the 
bottom." 

"Hurrah! "shouted  Forrest,  jubilantly.  "Don't 
you  stir  up  ISTanny !  You  waive  her  up.  Skipper 
Bowser  says,  and  she  is  worse  to  handle  than 
the  minister." 

"  Pooh  ! "  said  the  man.  "  Women  can't 
fight,  and  ministers  won't.  We  want  an  opinion 
from  those  that  are  going  to  the  war." 

"  Then  why  didn't  you  go  ? "  asked  Nanny, 
impulsively. 

"May  be  I  have  been." 

"  Then  why  didn't  you  stay  ?  You  didn't  de- 
sert, did  you  ? " 

The  impetuosity  of  Nanny's  feelings  swept 
her  away  into  a  mistake,  and  she  immediately 
was  conscious  of  it,  and  blushed.  He  in  turn 
did  not  redden  with  indignation.  He  calmly 
lifted  his  old  felt  hat  again,  but  higher  this 
time,  and  pointed  at  an  ugly  scar  across  his 
forehead. 


A  Foggy  Night  by  the  Sea.  17 

"  Bull  Rnn,"  he  said. 

Then  he  turned  back  the  sleeve  of  his  left 
arm  and  showed  the  red  mark,  the  ragged  mark,' 
of  a  wound  recently  healed. 

"  Ball's  Bluif,"  he  said. 

Xanny  now  blushed  redder  than  ever.  Then 
he  took  out  of  a  breast-pocket  an  envelope  car- 
rying, after  the  fashion  of  those  days,  the  pa- 
triotic emblem  of  the  stars  and  stripes  in  one 
corner.  From  this  envelope  he  drew  forth  a 
certificate  of  a  soldier's  discharge.  Nanny  after- 
ward recalled  the  fact  that,  intentionally  or  not, 
he  kept  a  finger  on  that  part  of  the  document 
where  the  soldier's  name  usually  appeared.  It 
was  a  discharge  from  the  service  of  the  army 
on  account  of  wounds  ;  an  honorable  good-bye. 

"  O  I — I  am  sorry,"  said  Nanny,  quickly. 
"Excuse  me!     I  didn't  know — " 

"  That  is  all  right.  Of  course  you  could  not 
know.  I  only  want  him  to  understand  it  is  a 
true  case — that  I  have  been  there.  I  was  won- 
dering whether  he  had  ever  thought  of  going. 
You  believe  in  taking  sides  ? "  he  said,  address- 
ing Forrest. 

"  That  is  the  way  Cap'n  Frye  talks.  '  Take 
sides,'  the  cap'n  says.  I  know  what  I  -want  to 
do." 

Forrest  rapidly  strode   across   the    hardened 


18        Drummer-Boy  of  the  Rappahannock. 

floor  of  earth  to  a  closet  in  the  corner.  As  lie 
opened  its  dusty  doors  a  drum  on  a  shelf  was 
revealed. 

"O  don't,  Forrest!"  exclaimed  Xanny. 

He  did  not  hear  her,  or  did  not  wish  to  seem 
to  hear  her.     lie  eagerly  grasped  the  old  relic. 

"  See  here,"  he  said,  patting  the  drum-sticks 
as  if  old  and  beloved  friends,  "I  can  do  one 
thing." 

He  twirled  the  sticks  with  a  proud  flourish 
and  then  let  them  fall  on  the  drumhead  rapidly 
and  skillfully. 

The  effect  on  the  old  soldier  was  instantane- 
ous and  great.  He  was  no  longer  a  crouching, 
shuflling  idler  in  a  blacksmith-shop — a  tired 
tramp  after  a  rough,  hard  walk  —  a  refugee 
from  damp,  foggy  weather.  He  threw  back  his 
head.  His  eyes  kindled  with  a  sudden,  sharp 
light.  His  face  was  glorified  with  the  inspira- 
tion of  a  great  cause.     He  cried, 

"  1  see  you  can  take  sides  if  you  want  to." 

"  Sides  !  "  exclaimed  Forrest.  "  Guess  I  un- 
derstand myself.  I  think  it  is  a  splendid  thing; 
a  tight  for  one's  country  and  freedom !  I  don't 
know  whether  I  am  heavy  enough.  I  am  only 
seventeen." 

"  You  can  beat  a  drum.     You  going?  " 

"  I  mean  to  go  if  I  get  a  chance." 


^  Foggy  Night  by  the  Sea.  19 

"  O  Forrest !  "  said  ]N"annj,  rebukinglj.  Tlien 
she  blushed  as  if  she  liad  again  made  a  mistake. 
Foi-rest  did  not  like  the  interruption.  He 
ceased  to  drum.  The  sticks  rested  idly  on  the 
sheepskin.  The  old  soldier  became  a  tramp 
again.  The  light  faded  out  of  his  ejes  like  the 
flush  of  day  going  off  from  the  sea.  His  head 
drooped.  The  honorable  discharge  went  into 
his  pocket  again,  and  the  old  felt  hat  covered 
up  the  sign  of  the  terrible  fight  at  Bull  Eun. 
The  three  figures  in  the  shop  stood  motionless 
and  shadowy,  too  much  interested  in  their 
thoughts  to  say  any  thing.  The  silence  and  the 
gloom  would  soon  have  become  oppressive,  when 
suddenly  a  sound  without  was  heard.  Forrest 
thrust  his  drum  back  into  its  closet.  He  ran  to 
the  door,  holding  his  hand  up  to  his  ear. 

"Hark  !  "  he  cried,  facing  the  sea. 

"What  is  it?"  asked  Nanny. 

"  That  is  a  gun  !  " 

Ye^,  it  came  again  :  Boom-m-m-m  ! 


20       Drummtr-Boy  of  the  Rappahannock, 


CHAPTER  II. 

A  RESCUE. 

"  rpHAT'S  a  gun,  ]N"anny  !  " 

J_    "  A  gun  where  ? " 

"  At  sea,  Nanny.  There  is  trouble  at  sea 
somewhere."  He  turned  to  the  stranger  and 
asked,  "Don't  you  want  to  go  down  to  the 
beach?" 

"  Certainly.     I  am  always  glad  to  help." 

The  two  hurried  across  the  muddy  road,  and 
jumped  the  stonewall  dividing  the  road  from  a 
pasture.  The  man  looked  round,  and  saw  Nan- 
ny following.  "  Plad  she  better  come  ? "  he 
whispered. 

"  Yes,"  said  Forrest ;  "  she  will  help.  One 
of  tliat  kind  you  can't  stop,  you  know,  when 
they  liave  made  up  their  minds." 

The  three  ran  rather  than  walked  across  the 
rough  pasture-lot,  tufted  with  clumps  of  blne- 
bcriy  bushes  and  separating  the  road  from  tlie 
sea.  The  occasion  for  the  alarm  was  a  mystery, 
and  where  tlie  least  is  known  the  most  can  be 
imagined.    Half  a  dozen  dismal  shipwrecks  took 


A  JRescue.  21 

place  in  Nanny's  thoughts  by  the  time  she  had 
traversed  this  field.  The  moon  must  have  now- 
risen  in  some  quarter  of  the  heavens,  for  they 
were  in  a  huge  ghostly  sphere  of  half-visible 
grayish  mist.  They  all  halted  on  the  edge  of 
the  sand-hills  that  sloped  down  to  the  shore, 
and  tried  to  pierce  the  mist  with  their  sight. 
Nanny  could  make  out  a  whiteness  below,  a 
rough,  shaggy  whiteness,  continually  changing 
its  outlines,  and  narrowing  to  a  streak  farther 
along  the  beach. 

"  There  are  the  breakers,"  she  said. 

Boom — m-m-m ! 

'•  There  it  is  again,  that  gun  ;  "  cried  Forrest. 

He  felt  the  touch  of  a  light,  firm  hand  on  his 
arm. 

"  It  is  at  No-Man's  Rock,  Forrest." 

"You  are  right,  Nanny,  and  here  goes  for  the 
shore."  Down  the  face  of  the  hummock  he 
plunged,  followed  by  the  others.  "  Here  is  the 
cap'n's  boat.     Can  you  row^,  sir  ?  " 

"  Try  me,"  said  the  tramp.  "  You  may  be  a 
good  oarsman,  but  you  can't  beat  me." 

"  I  will  steer." 

"  You  !  "  said  the  stranger,  addressing  Nanny 
in  tones  of  surprise. 

Forrest  replied  for  her  with  evident  pride. 
"  You  may  steer  well  yourself,  but  I  don't  believe 


22        Dnimmer-Boy  of  the  PMppahannock. 

YOU  can  equal  her.    She  is  phicky,"  he  added  in 
a  whisper,  "  and  she  can  beat  me  out  and  out." 

Captain  Frye's  boat  Lay  on  the  sands,  high  and 
dry. 

"  Here  she  is,  and  liere  are  tlie  rollers  to  move 
her  on.  The  sea  is  quiet,  and  we  will  row  off 
to  ISTo-Man's  flock,  only  half  a  mile  off.  Now 
push!  There  she  rolls!  Steady!  Tiiat  will 
do.  Nanny,  I'll  take  the  rollers  back.  You 
must  not  lift  so  much."  Her  answer  to  Forrest 
was  to  walk  up  the  sand  with  a  roller. 

Boom — m-m-m ! 

"There  they  go  again!  All  ready,"  cried 
Forrest,  acting  as  skipper,  and  able  to  do  it. 
jSTow  jump  in,  Nanny !  There!  He  and  I  will 
launch  her.  Here  she  goes!  All  hands  in!  Out 
with  your  oars  !  Nanny  will  steer,  sir.  Now  give 
it  to  her  before  that  breaker  comes.  Hold  !  Lie  on 
your  oars  !  Now  again,  pull,  pull !  Hold,  here's 
a  breaker  !     Pull,  pull !     Now,  my  hearties !  " 

The  crew  responding  with  a  will  to  the  ex- 
hortation of  their  venerable  skipper,  the  boat 
was  soon  carried  through  the  surf  into  the  wa- 
ters beyond.  The  sea  was  not  rough,  and  yet 
not  absolutely  at  rest.  There  was  that  Ipng,  un- 
easy swell  from  which  the  sea  is  never  wholly 
free.  The  tempest-billows  subside  to  this,  and 
leave  it  behind  as   a  foot-print  of  the  terrible 


A  Rescue.  23 

inarch  of  tlie  liowling  wind,  and  the  crasliing 
rain,  the  blackening  night  and  the  whitening 
waves.  To  those  sailing  calmly,  confidently  to- 
day, this  niai'k  of  the  storm  survives  as  a  re- 
minder of  a  power  temporarily  laid  down,  that 
may  be  taken  up  any  moment  and  howl  and 
rage  and  destroy  once  more.  Any  trouble  to- 
night, though,  would  not  come  from  the  wreck- 
ing wind  and  water,  but  from  that  silent,  con- 
fusing, treacherous  fog. 

"  Nanny,  can  you  get  at  your  father's  lantern 
in  the  stern  ? " 

"  It  is  all  lighted,  Forrest,  safe  in  the  locker. 
I  did  not  take  it  out,  for  I  thought  we  might 
row  and  steer  better  without  it." 

"  I  see  it  now,  shining  out  through  the  crack 
Just  like  you,  to  have  things  ready.  We  don't 
need  it  now,  but  we  may  ;  and  it  is  well  to  have 
things  handy.  Half  a  mile  will  take  us  to  No- 
Man's  Rock." 

Boom — m-m-m. 

"  That  gun  is  getting  to  be  a  near  neighbor," 
said  the  tramp,  pulling  like  an  expert. 

Forrest  here  rose  in  the  boat  and  discharged 
a  pjstol. 

"  Why,  Forrest !  where-  did  you  get  that  ? " 

"  That  is  the  old  horse-pistol  the  cap'n  keeps 
in   the   shop   to    shoot   partridges  with,   and  I 


24        Drummer-Boy  of  the  Mappahannock. 

bang  away  with  it  on  the  Fourtli.  I  thought  I 
might  want  to  nse  it,  and  brought  it  along.  I 
giiej^s  that  will  chirk  'ein  up,  as  Skipper  Bowser 
says." 

'•  AVhat  a  boy  !  "  said  Kanny,  in  the  language 
of  motherly  reproof  for  the  surreptitious  intro- 
duction of  fire-arms,  and  yet  in  a  tone  of  pleas- 
ure at  Forrest's  ingenious  substitute  for  a  signal 
gun. 

Boom — m-m-m ! 

"  She  answers  us,"  cried  Forrest,  complacently. 

Boom — m-m-m ! 

"That  one  was  a  spanker,"  said  the  tramp. 
"  We  are  pretty  well  up  to  'em." 

"Yes,  yes,"  said  Nanny.  "There  is  some- 
thing black  I  can  see  among  the  breakers  near 
No-Man's  Rock.     Hurrah  !  " 

"Hurrah!"  shouted  Forrest  and  the  tramp. 
"  Hurrah  !  "  A  cry  came  back  from  the  ves- 
sel. 

"  Nanny,  just  put  us  on  the  north  side  of  the 
rock,  please.  It  is  not  so  rough  there,  you 
know." 

"  Ay,  ay,  skipper." 

A  long,  narrow,  black  something  could  be 
made  out,  and  that  was  a  vessel  thrust  upon  some- 
thing else  that  was  long,  narrow,  and  black,  and 
that  was  No-Man's  Rock. 


A  Rcsme.  25 

"  Boat  aliov  ! "  came  the  call  from  tlie  vessel. 
"  Here  we  are  !  Don't  worry  !  "  said  the  skip- 
per, soothingly.  The  boat  was  laid  along-side  of 
the  vessel,  and  a  lantern  in  the  rigging  of  the  hit- 
ter sprinkled  a  few  pale  rays  on  the  deck.  Two 
black  lumps  rolled  across  the  deck,  and  turned 
out  to  be  two  men  that  leaned  over  the  rail. 

''  I  tell  you  we  are  glad  to  see  ,you  ;  for  where 
we  are  we  don't  know  much  better  than  Jonah 
did  when  he  was  swallered  up  inside  that  famous 
fish  !     Do  we,  Griffin  ! " 

"That  we  don't,  Trickey,"  said  the  other 
man. 

"  I^ow  we  must  get  off,  the  next  thing.  There 
are  only  us  two,  besides  the  old  lady  and  her 
granddarter.  We'll  let  'em  go  ashore^  fust,  if 
you  say  so.  Here  they  be  now — or  one  of  'em." 
Suddenly  something  else  appeared  on  the 
deck,  and  Forrest  knew  from  the  shape  of  the 
figure  that  it  was  a  woman. 

"  O,  has  help  come,  Trickey  ?  " 
"  Now,  miss,  be  easy.  We  shall  be  all  right 
now,  for  here's  folks  trusty  as  a  big  hawser.  And 
don't  let  your  grandmother  worry  any,  but  jest 
say  we  shall  soon  be  safe  as  the  cap'n  of  a  man- 
of-war  the  day  after  the  battle." 

Another  figure  soon  appeared,  short  and  stout 
and  much  muffled,  and  she  stood  leaning  on  the 


26        Drummer-Boy  of  the  Rappahannock. 

yoiiiio'  woman.  "That's  tlie  old  ladj  De  "Witt, 
Avlio  owns  this,"  whispered  Trickey  to  the  tramp  ; 
and  wliile  Forrest  and  Gi-ilhn  were  "stowing 
away  the  cari2:o,"  as  Trickey  called  it,  the  loqiia- 
cions  tongue  of  the  latter  rattled  away  in  the 
tramp's  ear.  The  two  stood  side  by  side  ou  the 
deck  of  the  yacht. 

"  You  see,  this  is  a  yacht,  and  there  are  only  ns 
two — me  and  Clriftin.  Our  skipper  was  the  third, 
hut,  poor  fellow  !  he  left  us  in  the  afternoon,  tak- 
ing our  boat  awhile,  and  thought  while  we  were 
at  anchor  he'd  fish,  and  this  fog  came  up.  You 
see,  he  was  half-seas  over  when  he  left,  but  we 
couldn't  stop  him  any  more  than  a  bull  goin' 
down  a  mountain.  He  didn't  heave  in  sight, 
and  me  and  Griffin  thought  we  would  h'ist  an- 
chor and  feel  round  for  him.  That  was  a  mis- 
take. We  didn't  see  as  much  as  a  ripple  of  the 
skipper,  and  by-andby,  in  the  fog,  we  must 
amuse  ourselves  by  flounderin'  on  to  this  rock. 
There  is  one  hole  in  her  aft,  sartin,  and  if  the 
next  tide  should  float  iitr  she  might  float  to  sink. 
All  we  could  do  was  to  bang  away  with  that  lit- 
tle cannon,  hopin'  we  might  rouse  somebody, 
and  enough  glad  we  were  to  see  you.  Ho, 
there!  All  aboard  in  that  boat,  Griffin?  So 
they  are." 

"  So  they  are,"  replied  Griffin,  who  appeared 


A  Rescue.  27 

to  be  a  kind  of  plionograpli  for  Trickey,  repeat- 
ing what  was  shouted  to  him. 

''  If  I  may  make  a  suggestion,"  said  the 
tramp,  "'  that  boat  is  not  a  vast  one  and  four 
is  a  comfortable  load  for  her,  and,  if  young  Frye 
will  let  me,  I'll  take  his  place  and  then  come  for 
liini  and  the  others." 

But  Forrest  wanted  the  pleasure  of  having 
a  hand  in  rowing  that  boatload  ashore,  and 
j^Janny  had  whispered,  "I'll  help  row,  Forrest." 
The  little  craft  now"  started  for  the  beach. 

"Have  a  good  heart,  grandmother,"  said  the 
younger  of  th(5  two  rescued  women. 

"1  will.  Belle." 

"Then  her  name  is  Belle,"  thought  I^anny. 
"  And  Forrest  says  her  other  name  is  De  Witt." 

The  fog  speedily  veiled  the  yacht  and  the  rock. 
Before,  as  well  as  behind,  dropped  the  mist.  It 
came  down  like  a  dismal  vault  upon  a  narrow 
circle  of  still  more  dismal  water,  in  the  center 
of  which  was  the  little  dory.  The  sea  swayed 
lazily  against  the  sides  of  the  boat,  the  sound 
of  its  splashing  interrupted  by  the  click  of  the 
oars  and  the  dripping  of  the  water  from  their 
blades.  Belle  and  her  grandmother  were  pro- 
fuse in  their  exclamations  of  gratitude,  while 
Tsanny  interjected  words  of  regret  at  their  ex- 
posure, administering  what  Forrest  called  "  doses 


28       JJriimmer-Boy  of  the  Rappahannock. 

of  sympathy,"  which  he  nsed  to  saj  she  kept 
"  bottled  np  for  ready  use,  and  it  was  always 
pleasant  to  take." 

The  boat  was  pulled  tlirongh  the  surf  by 
Forrest  and  Nanny,  and  then  successfully 
beached. 

"You  here  ?"' exclaimed  Forrest,  recognizing 
an  old  acquaintance  by  the  light  of  a  fire  that 
some  one  had  started  at  the  base  of  a  sand  hum- 
mock.    "  You  here.  Skipper  Bowser  ? " 

"  Of  course,  and  lots  of  others.  They  are  dis- 
tributed round  in  spots.  People  at  the  seashore 
sleep  -with  one  eye  open,  and  we  li*eard  them  guns 
barkin'  and  catne  down  to  see  what  the  trouble 
was.  We  all  want  to  help.  Take  the  folks  to 
my  house,  Nanny." 

"Skipper,"  replied  Nanny,  "I  will  do  as  you 
say,  and  take  these  ladies  to  your  house — that  is 
the  nearest  place — and  then  some  one  can  take 
my  oars ;  and  couldn't  you,  Forrest,  get  another 
boat  to  go  off  with  yon  ? " 

"  The  very  thing  I  was  going  to  do." 

"  Miss  De  Witt,  if  your  grandmother  will  let 
me  support  her  on  one  side,  while  you  stay  her 
on  the  other,  we  might  walk  up  to  a  house  near 
by,"  suggested  Nanny. 

"  Thank  you.  You  are  very  kind — and — very 
brave  too.  I  could  not  have  done  what  you  did." 


A  Rescue.  29 

"  Oil,"  said  Nanny,  modestly,  "  we  get  used 
to  it  down  by  the  sea.  We  are  always  expect- 
ing something  to  happen,  the  sea  is  so  cruel  and 
treaclierous.  It  is  like  a  beast  that  licks  your 
hand  and  plays  with  you  one  moment,  and  the 
next  it  may  spring  upon  you.  We  never  know 
what  it  will  do  from  hour  to  hour,  and  we  get 
used  to  surprises.  Still  we  are  proud  of  it, 
though  it  does  make  us  tremble  sometimes.  I 
should  miss  it  if  away  from  it,  miss  its  beauty 
and  its  majesty,  and  its  roar  too,  which  is 
sometimes  only  a  dreamy,  musical  murmur 
back  at  our  house.  We  live  not  very  far  from 
the  shore." 

"This  is  a  great  surprise  to  us,"  said  Belle, 
"and  especially  to  poor  grandma." 

"  Yes,  yes,"  murmured  the  old  lady,  softly. 

"  You  see,  we  were  out  on  a  pleasure  excur- 
sion, as  grandma  is  very  fond  of  the  water  and 
owns  a  yacht.  We  should  feel  better  if  we 
knew  M'liat  had  become  of  our  skipper." 

IS'anny  wanted  to  ask  them  about  the  skipper 
of  the  yacht,  but  before  her  were  the  twinkling 
lights  in  the  home  of  Skipper  Bowser. 

"  There  !  we  will  step  into  this  house,  for  it  is 
nearest  to  the  boat.  Skipper  and  Mrs.  Bowser 
live  hei-e,  and  back  of  them,  in  the  woods,  are 
George  and  Eliza,  two  colored  people,  real  good- 


30        Drummer-Boy  of  the  Rappahaitnock. 

hearted,  and   they  will   do   all    they  can.     And 
liere  we  are." 

Skipper  Bowser  had  run  ahead  to  notify 
Miranda  Jane,  his  wife,  and  she  was  on  hand  to 
welcome  the  strangers,  her  stout  form  almost 
filling  the  doorway. 

"  Come  right  in  ! "  she  was  h.ospitably  ex- 
claiming, while  behind  her  stood  the  skipper 
grinning  a  cordial  welcome. 

The  strangers  were  taken  into  a  parter  that 
was  bright  with  painted  crockery  images  on  the 
mantel-piece,  and  with  showy  blossoms  of  amar- 
anths in  gilt  china  vases  on  the  table,  while  orange 
and  yellow  home-made  rugs  flamed  all  over  the 
floor  and  gave  one  a  good  idea  of  a  prairie  on  fire. 

All  this  time  the  work  of  rescue  was  in  prog- 
ress off  the  shore.  Forrest  rowed  back  to  the 
yacht,  received  to  his  boat  the  tramp  and  the 
two  yachtsmen,  and  the  home-pull  was  begun. 
Forrest  was  steering  ;  Trickey  and  the  tramp 
were  rowing.  Sometimes  after  an  intense  strain 
upon' one's  nature,  when  every  sense  has  been  in 
vigilant  exercise,  and  every  nerve  stretched,  there 
is  a  reaction  in  which  all  watch  is  abandoned,  all 
care  dismissed,  and  the  soul  luxuriates  in  the 
consciousness  of  rest  and  triumph.  Forrest  was 
in  this  mood.  He  laughed,  cracked  his  jokes, 
sung  snatches  of  songs.     In  one  of  these  mo- 


A  Rescue.  31 

merits  of  exhilaration  lie  carelessly  rose  in  liis 
seat,  looked  about,  gave  directions  for  the  beach- 
ing of  the  boat  in  the  right  place,  exchanged 
jokes  with  the  trainp,  laughed,  hurrahed,  and, 
making  a  misstep  as  he  changed  his  position, 
fell  into  the  sea. 

"If  that  isn't  a  pity!  "  exclaimed  Trickey. 

The  tramp  only  said,  "  The  feller  can't  swim  ;  " 
and  into  the  chilling  sea  he  went  also. 

It  was  an  exciting  moment.  The  moon  was 
overhead  somewhere,  trying  to  cut  through  the 
fog  with  its  sharp  disk,  making  a  mild  twilight 
on  the  great  sea.    ,  . 

The  two  yachtsmen  were  confusedly  stirring 
about,  looking  down  into  the  black,  uneasy 
water,  crying,  "  Do  you  see  'em  ? "  "  Have  they 
come  up  ? "     "  Too  bad  !  "    "  O,  there  they  are !  " 

Yes,  there  they  were ;  or  at  least  two  objects 
had  bobbed  up  into  the  twilight,  one  saying  to 
the  other,  in  a  deep,  strong  voice,  "  Don't  wony  ! 
I've  got  ye !     I  can  swim !  " 

"  That's  that  man  !  "  shouted  Trickey.  "  Here ! 
We'll  pull  ye— in— in  !  " 

"  Yes,  yes ! "  cried  his  companion,  with  his 
oar  wQrkinsr  the  boat  nearer  to  the  struoffflina: 
humanity  in  the  water.  The  tramp  was  work- 
ing his  way  toward  the  boat.  He  was  support- 
ing Forrest,  who  was  one  of   the  exceptional 


32       Drummer-Boy  of  the  Rappahannock. 

cases  sometimes  found  near  salt  water  that  know 
little  about  swimming.  Forrest  had  confessed 
this  to  the  man  while  on  the  yacht  that  very 
evening.  The  two  were  now  within  an  arm's 
reach  of  the  boat,  when  suddenly  Forrest  in 
some  way  slipped  out  of  the  strong  grasp  of  his 
rescuer,  and  disappeared. 

"  If  he  ain't  gone  again  !  "  groaned  Griffin. 

"  And  t'other  one,  too  !  "  said  Trickey, 

The  tramp  had  gone  out  of  sight,  and  the 
gurgling  Avater  closed  over  every  trace  of  the 
two  souls  who  a  moment  ago  were  fighting 
with  death.  The  sea  like  a  dark  coffin-lid  shut 
down  upon  them,  and  then  came  that  horrible 
season  of  Avaiting,  the  awful  suspense  when 
every  thing  is  so  uncertain  and  unreal ;  life  a 
receding  wave,  a  vanishing  shadow,  a  star  expir- 
ing in  the  western  sea,  and  death  the  only  thing 
real  in  the  world.  No,  no  !  There  was  a  glimpse 
of  life. 

"  There  they  are  again !  On  my  side,  Trickey ! 
I'll  catch  'em !  "  shouted  Griffin,  who  had  much 
warmth  of  manner  and  heart  also.  He  was  at 
once  reaching  his  hands  down  into  the  water, 
grabbhig,  gri^^ping,  shouting,  "  I  got  'em ! 
Keep  the  boat  stiddy  !  " 

"  Take  him — first !  "  gasped  the  tramp,  sliak- 
iuir  the  water  off  from  his  head.     "  There  ! " 


A  Rescue.  33 

Into  the  boat  was  pulled  Forrest,  and  then  the 
tramp  was  received. 

"  How — how  do  you  feel  ? "  said  Griffin,  bend- 
ing over  Forrest,  heaped  up  in  the  stern. 

"  O  !— O  !— better  !  That  was  tough  !  Thought 
I  was  gone." 

"  And  you  came  awful  near  it,  sure  as  your 
name  is — " 

"  Forrest  Hooper  !  " 

Tlie  boat  jolted  roughly,  as  if  some  one  were 
stepping  about,  and  the  two  yachtsmen  saw  it 
was  the  tramp  springing  up  in  the  thin  light 
and  they  heard  him  groan,  "  What — what  ?  O 
my  God  !  "  Then  down  into  the  boat  he  dropped, 
making  a  heap  as  limj)  and  inert  as  a  lot  of  old 
clothing. 

"That's  a  queer  bob!"  ejaculated  Trickey. 
"Sick,  old  feller?"  he  asked,  turning  to  the 
tramp. 

But  the  latter  said  nothing. 

"  Afraid  he  has  hurt  hisself,"  suggested  Grif- 
fin, sympathetically.  "  Let's  git  'em  ashore 
quick  as  we  can," 

Forrest  wanted  to  rise,  and  go  to  the  tramp. 

"  No,  boy ;  keep  quiet !  "  commanded  Trickey, 
abruptly.  "  Quiet  now  !  He's  a-doin'  better," 
He  had  a  peremptory  manner  that  Forrest  did 
not  like. 


34       Brumnier-Boy  of  the  liappaJuuuiock. 

Tlie  tramp  made  no  furtlier  move,  and  the 
boat  was  quickly  rowed  ashore.  The  yachtsmen 
and  the  tramp  went  at  once  to  Skipper  Bowser's 
Ush-lionse.  This  had  several  bunks,  and  some 
of  the  skipper's  old  clothes.  A  lire  was  kindled 
in  the  furnace  where  the  skipper  boiled  his  lob- 
sters. The  tramp  was  put  into  dry  clothes,  and 
packed  in  bed. 

"  You'd  better  come  to  my  house,  and  my  wife 
will  make  you  comfortable,"  said  the  skipper. 

"Thankee!  I'd  rather  stay  here,"  was  the 
reply. 

The  yachtsmen  also  preferred  to  bunk  in  the 
fish-house.  They  were  left  to  themselves.  The 
light  from  their  lantern  glimmered  a  while 
through  the  cracks  in  the  old  fish-house,  and 
went  out.  The  beach  was  deserted  by  all  vis- 
itors. The  fog  covered  the  moon,  and  covered 
the  sea,  while  through  the  mist  and  along  the 
sands  ran  an  indistinct,  whitish  line  of  surf. 

In  the  windows  of  Skipper  Bowsei-'s  house 
the  lights  burned  awhile  longer.  The  black- 
smith. Captain  Frye,  went  there  to  inquire  about 
the  rescued  ladies,  and  to  report  that  he  had  put 
Forrest  to  bed,  who  was  "  doing  well." 

"  It's  a  mercy  you  were  not  all  spilled  into 
the  sea,"  remarked  the  captain.  "  No-Man's 
Eock  is  not  so  generous  generally." 


A  Rescue.  35 

"  Yes,  yes ;  'twas  a  mercy,"  murmured  Mrs. 
De  Witt. 

Captain  Frye  now  did  a  little  fifeliing.  His 
hand  made  a  dive  down  into  the  interior  of  a 
capacious  felt  hat,  bringing  up  an  immense  red 
handkerchief  with  which  he  wiped  a  face  whose 
size  corresponded  with  that  of  the  hat.  It  was 
a  homely  face,  reddened  by  many  forge  fires. 
The  blue  eyes  had  lost  their  luster,  and  were  a 
species  of  violets  that  the  rain  had  washed  many 
times  and  soaked  the  color  out  of.  His  hair  was 
only  a  thin,  gray  fringe  around  the  base  of  his 
head.  This  on  top  was  bare  as  a  cannon-ball,  but 
it  was  as  honest  a  head  as  is  often  put  together. 

"  I  know  how  it  is  about  father,"  Nanny  had 
said.  "  He  is  getting  bald  that  his  head  may  fit 
all  the  better  into  his  crown."  The  captain  had 
one  of  those  big,  spiritual  natures  sometimes 
too  unworldly  for  their  best  temporal  interests, 
but  a  great  blessing  to  the  world.  "  If  he  would 
love  his  anvil  as  much  as  his  Church  he  would  be 
amazin'  rich,"  Skipper  Bowser  once  said.  Cap- 
tain Frye  had  a  frank,  open  nature,  and  as  he 
was  guileless  in  his  own  motives  he  credited 
others  with  the  same  sincerity. 

"  Mne  tenths  saint  and  one  tenth  sinner  are 
the  portions  that  the  cap'n  mixes  up  in  order  to 
make  the  average  man,"  declared  Skipper  Bow- 


36       Drummer- Boy  of  the  Rappahannock. 

ser.  "  If  he  didn't  mix  the  elements  that  way 
he  might  not  think  so  much  of  Skipper  Bow- 
ser," laughingly  retorted  his  wife.  Having  such 
a  generous  faith  in  human  nature,  the  captain 
was  open  at  times  to  invasions  of  imposition  of 
various  kinds,  and  the  shrewder  and  more 
worldly  skipper  declared  that  he  "  couldn't  and 
wouldn't  see  a  r'yal  nature  abused,"  and  would 
try  his  hand  at  "  protectin'  his  neighbor."  Such 
interposition  only  provoked  a  good-humored 
laugh  from  the  captain  at  the  skipper's  distress  for 
him,  and  it  ended  in  the  skipper's  retirement 
from  the  field  leaving  the  captain  "  mixin'  as  afore 
the  proportions  for  humanity,  nine  tenths  saint 
and  one  tenth  sinner  ;  takin'  things  more  as  they 
ought  to  be  and  less  as  they  are,"  declared  the 
skipper. 

In.  one  direction,  that  of  his  God,  the  captain's 
faith  never  disappointed  him.  "  Great  on  the 
knees  ;  great  on  the  knees,"  commented  the  skip- 
per. "  He  talks  right  to  his  heavenly  Father  like 
a  child  who  wants  suthin'  and  will  get  it.  Real 
handy  in  prayin'."  Dusky-face  George  declared 
that  "  de  cap'n's  words  wen'  up  jes'  as  easy  as 
smoke  from  de  chim'ley.  O,  he  has  de  power 
in  praj^er ! "  This  gift  made  all  the  more  valu- 
able the  captain's  love  for  his  Church.  When 
people  were  dying,  feeling  round  in  the  shadows 


A  Rescue.  37 

for  a  supporting,  hand,  they  would  send  for  the 
captain  to  come  and  pray  with  them.  Tough- 
skinned  old  sinners,  whose  consciences  seemed 
past  pricking,  especially  wanted  the  captain, 
lie  loved  best  to  pray  with  little  children  and 
old  Christians.  "  They  seem  to  stand  nighest 
our  Father,"  lie  would  say.  The  captain  was 
eminently  a  peace-maker  when  men  were  well. 
If  any  one  could  make  enemies  shake  hands,  it 
was  lie.  And  when  men  came  to  die,  and  needed 
reconciliation  to  God,  it  was  the  captain  who 
seemed  to  have  the  spirit  of  the  divine  Recon- 
ciler, and  could  use  the  apostle's  words,  "  We 
pray  you  in  Christ's  stead,  be  ye  reconciled  to 
God."  "If  any  thing  fetclies  me  hum  it  will 
be  Mirandy  Jane's  livin'  and  Cap'n  Frye's 
prayin',"  the  skipper  would  say.  The  skipper 
was  an  unbeliever ;  a  milder  one,  though,  than 
he  somtimes  classified  himself.  His  wife  was  a 
woman  whose  Christian  disci pleship  and  daily 
living  went  in  parallel  lines. 

The  night  of  the  rescue,  in  the  homes  along 
the  rocky  coast,  and  in  the  rough  but  sheltering 
fish-house,  all  slept  in  jDeace.  Before  morning 
there  was  a  change  in  the  weather. 

Out  of  that  mist,  out  of  the  noiseless  air,  was 
born  a  storm. 

"  The  wind  has  swung  round  to  the  nor'-east," 


38       Drummer-Boy  of  the  Rappahannock . 

said  Skipper  Bowser  to  his  wife  in  tlie  morning. 
"Whew,  Mirandj  Jane!  My  sou'-wester 
catches  water  hke  a  French  roof.  You  see, 
I've  been  down  on  the  shore,  and  it's  tough  as  a 
gale  in  the  Bay  of  Fundy.  Gettin'  to  be  dread- 
ful howly  down  there." 

There  was,  indeed,  a  furious  uproar  on  the 
sands,  and  every  hour  it  increased.  The  waves 
were  like  an  immense  battering-ram  continually 
driven  against  the  shore,  its  head  constantly 
crumbling  into  the  wildest,  whitest,  most  turbu- 
lent surf.  One  could  see  but  a  little  distance 
from  the  land,  so  thick  and  confusing  was  the 
rain,  and  what  there  was  to  be  seen  was  only  a 
wrathful  turmoil.  The  waves  angrily  smote 
their  tops  against  one  another,  shattering  into 
foam,  with  dark  somber  hollows  of  green  be- 
tween wave  and  wave. 

The  two  men,  Griffin  and  Trickey,  stood  in 
their  oiled  suits  before  the  fish-house,  and  looked 
off. 

"What  is  that,  Trickey?" 

"  Where  ? " 

"  That  ere  black  thing  over  there  in  the  surf. 
Depend  on't,  that  is  a  part  of  our  yacht !  She 
is  gone ! " 

"  Poor  fellow — I  wonder  where  our  skipper 
is!" 


A  Jlescue.  39 

"  I  don't  know.  I  tliouglit  of  him  when  the 
wind  rose  in  the  niglit." 

"  Afraid  lie  is  gone  !  " 

"  Afraid  lie  is  gone  ! "  said  Trickey's  echo. 

The  two  men  stepped  back  to  the  fish-lionse 
door,  and  there  they  stood,  watching  the  wrath- 
ful sea  and  wondering  where  their  skipper 
might  be.     The  tramp  was  still  in  his  bunk. 


40       Drummer-Boy  of  the  Rappahannock. 


CHAPTER  III. 

ONE  SIDE  OR  THE  OTHER. 

IN"  tlie  midst  of  the  prairie  fires  on  Mrs.  Bow- 
ser's yellow  and  orange  rugs,  looking  like  a 
martyr  surrounded  by  the  flames,  but  very 
cheerful  withal,  sat  the  old  lady  rescued  from 
the  yacht  the  night  before. 

"  Pretty  as  a  picture,"  thought  Forrest,  enter- 
ins;  and  looking  at  her  fair  face  with  its  aureole 
of  white  hair. 

"I  thought  perhaps  you  might  need  some- 
thing this  morning,  and  I  stepped  down  to  see 
if  I  could  be  of  any  service,  ma'am." 

"  O  no,  I  thank  you.  We  troubled  you 
enough  last  night,  and  we  ought  to  trouble  you 
with  as  few  wants  as  possible  now.  The  wind 
lias  got  into  a  new  quarter,  and  the  storm  is 
driving  badly." 

"Yes,"  he  answered,  dreamily.  He  was  not 
thinking  of  the  storm.  He  was  admiring  the 
old  lady — her  peaceful  face,  her  fair  complexion, 
her  snowy  hair.  And  she  was  admiring  him. 
He  stood  before  her  in  the  freshness  and  the 


One  Side  or  the  Other.  41 

strougtli  of  bis  youth,  the  ruddiness  of  liealth  in 
his  cheeks  and  tlie  light  of  an  entlmsiastic  nat- 
ure kindled  in  his  eyes.  Mrs.  UeWitt  was  say- 
ing to  herself,  "  There  is  something  in  that 
young  man." 

"  Are  you  Capt.  Frye's  son  ? " 

He  shook  his  head  and  merely  said,  "I  have 
always  lived,  or  almost  always,  in  the  family. 
My  real  name  is  Hooper,  but  I  quite  often  call 
myself  Forrest  Frye." 

"  May  I  ask  you  another  question  ?  And  you 
won't  think  me  impertinent,  for  you  know  we 
old  ladies  have  great  privileges.  Tell  me  what 
you  are  going  to  do  in  the  future." 

Forrest  smiled. 

"  I  guess  that  remark  will  have  to  stand  with 
an  interrogation  point  after  it,  for  I  don't  know 
yet  myself  what  it  will  be.  Judging  from  pres- 
ent appearances,  it  looks  as  if  it  might  be  to 
pound  iron." 

"  What  do  you  think  you  would  like  ?  You 
speak  of  pounding  iron.  Blacksmith ing  is  good, 
but  unless  I  am  much  mistaken,  you  are  good 
for  something  better."  Forrest  blushed  at  this 
assurance,  but  the  blush  did  not  harm  his  good 
looks  any.  His  blue  eyes  lighted  up,  and 
glowed  like  lamps  inside  thin  sapphire  globes  of 
glass. 


42        Drummer- Boy  of  the  Rappaliannock. 

"  Come  now,"  continued  the  old  lady  plcasant- 
1}^  and  encouragingly,  "  I  aui  a  grandmotlier  to 
'most  every  body,  though  I  am  really  grandparent 
only  to  Belle,  and  a  boy  down  South,  her  cousin. 
But  folks  let  me  call  them  my  grandchildren, 
and  you  must  be  one  of  the  family."  Forrest 
tliought  he  would  like  to  be  the  grandson  of 
such  a  fine  old  lady.  She  went  on  :  "  What  do 
you  think  you  would  like  to  do  ? "  He  hesi- 
tated. 

''  I  think  I  would  like  to  be  a  speaker  and 
writer.  I  would  like  to  have  power  to  move 
the  strongest  thing  in  the  world,  and  that  is  the 
human  will.  It  seems  to  me  that  to  move  peo- 
ple, to  make  and  shape  people,  is  about  as  grand 
work  as  one  can  ask  for." 

"Well,  I  think  you  can  do  it.  AVhy  don't 
you  have  an  education  ?  You  have  power  in 
you,  I  am  confident." 

Forrest  blushed  again.  He  was  aware  of  his 
embarrassment  and  frankly  confessed  it. 

"  I  am  not  accustomed  to  so  much  encourage- 
ment, and  you  must  excuse  my  hesitation.  There 
is  only  one  otlier  person  who  says,  as  openly  as 
you,  that  I  might  do  something." 

"Who  is  that?" 

"  Nanny." 

"  Nanny  ?     A  girl  ?    Ah,  you  can't  trust  3'oung 


One  Side  or  the  Other.  43 

girls  as  well  as  old  ladies.  Who  is  Nanuj  ?  Your 
sister  ? " 

"  She  is  the  young  woman  living  at  Captain 
Frye's,  and  is  not  my  sister,  of  course,  as  she  is 
Captain  Frye's  daughter.  She  helped  me  row, 
last  night." 

"  Her  name  IS'anny  ?  She  is  a  splendid  girl. 
If  I  heard  her  name,  I  had  forgotten  it.  Well, 
think  over  what  I  said,  and  if  you  can  see  your 
way  clear  to  obtaining  an  education,  get  it.  I 
think  we  are  under  obligation  to  make  the  most 
of  ourselves.  When  I  was  young  I  had  an  am- 
bition to  write,  but  in  those  days  they  were 
afraid  to  educate  the  girls.  They  did  not  know 
what  kind  of  wild  creatures  they  might  let  out 
of  their  menagerie  cages.  People  are  fairer  in 
these  days,  and  men  and  women  have,  or  should 
have,  the  like  liberty  of  education." 

"Captain  Frye  has  an  old  acquaintance  out 
West  who.  is  principal  of  a  school,  and  he  some- 
times visits  here.  He  once  said  he  would  help 
me  to  an  education." 

"  Think  it  over  ;  and  1  believe  you  have  made 
some  friends  this  week  who  will  give  you  a  lift 
also." 

"What  did  she  mean?  She  will  help  me; 
that's  what  she  means,"  thought  Forrest. 

He  was  silent  a  moment.     Then  he  lifted  his 


44       Drummer-Boy  of  the  Rappahannoch. 

bright  eyes.  In  that  moment  it  seemed  as  if  the 
boy  of  seventeen  had  greatened  into  a  man. 

"  I  haven't  told  all ;  and,  to  tell  every  thing,  I 
can't  get  over  the  feeling  that  I  ought  to  go  to 
the  war.  I  may  not  be  old  enough  to  carry  a 
gun,  but  they  say  I  can  beat  a  drum.  I  can't 
get  away  from  it,  I  hear  it  continually,  that  I 
ought  to  go.    That  is  the  first  thing  to  be  done." 

"  You  go  to  the  war !  This  awful,  bloody 
war  !  "  said  the  old  lady,  in  surprise. 

"  Why,  somebody  must  go.  Now  look  at  it. 
In  a  house  near  by  live  two  colored  people,  and 
there  are  millions  of  them  at  the  South  whose 
fate  is  bound  up  in  this  war.  May  be  you 
haven't  talked  with  Cap'n  Frye  ? " 

"  About  what  ?  " 

"  About  the  blacks.  They  call  him  an  aboli- 
tionist, that  is,  people  'round  here.  He  doesn't 
care  what  they  call  him.  He  believes  God  has 
a  great  future  in  store  for  them,  and  he  says 
you've  got  to  take  sides  in  this  thing.  You've 
got  to  be  on  one  side  or  the  other.  But  then, 
the  cap'n  is  always  talking  that  way  about  tak- 
ing sides.  I  tell  you,  whatever  comes  up,  if 
there  is  a  right  and  a  wrong  to  it,  the  cap'n 
gets  into  his  place  pretty  quick.  '  Take  sides, 
Forrest,'  he  says." 

"  Well,  is  he  willing  you  should  go  to  the  war  ? " 


One  Side  or  the  Otlier.  45 

"  That  is  it.  I  tell  him  I  am  willing.  I  can 
beat  a  drum.     That  will  till  up  a  gap " 

Here  came  from  a  corner  a  sudden  interrup- 
tion. The  speal^er  was  joung  Belle  De  Witt. 
She  was  gifted  with  a  very  interesting  face. 
Her  blue  eyes  had  a  straight,  incisive  way  of 
looking  into  one,  and  suggested  that  a  character 
of  much  force  and  decision,  was  behind  the  eyes. 
Forrest  felt  the  power  of  those  penetrating  eyes 
very  quickly  as  she  spoke  and  fastened  a  look, 
playful,  and  yet  very  direct  and  significant,  upon 
him. 

''  Couldn't  you  let  us  hear  you  beat  the  drum  ? 
We  are  going  very  soon,  indeed,  are  expecting 
the  carriage  any  moment  to  take  us  to  the  rail- 
road station,"  said  Belle. 

"  You  going  so  soon  !  Well,  I  will  get  my 
drum." 

He  left  the  room  at  once. 

"  What  a  boy  he  is  !  "  said  the  old  lady.  "  I 
like  him." 

On  his  way  to  the  closet  in  the  blacksmith's 
shop,  where  he  expected  to  find  his  drum,  For- 
rest abruptly  halted  amid  the  easterly  storm. 

He  uttered  one  word,  "Nanny!"  What 
would  Nanny  say  to  this  exhibition  of  musical 
talent  ? 

"  She  hates  any  thing  like  showing  off,"  mur- 


46       Drummer- Boy  of  the  Rapimhannock. 

mared  Forrest,  "and  she  doesn't  seem  to  enjoy 
nij  beating  anyway.  She  says  she  doesn't  want 
to  encourage  the  war.  Encourage  the  war ! 
How  is  my  beating  a  drum  going  to  encourage 
the  war  ?  And  yet  she  says  she  believes  in  the 
war.  Women  are  queer  tilings.  Guess  I'll  get 
my  drum. 

But  Nanny,  the  plain-spoken,  imperative 
Nanny,  had  more  power  over  him  than  he  might 
have  supposed.  Resuming  his  walk,  he  halted 
again.  He  saw  Nanny's  eyes  forbidding  him. 
But  he  saw  another  pair  of  eyes,  and  these 
smiled  and  urged  him  forward.  Which  eyes 
would  prove  the  stronger  ?  Nanny's,  or  those 
of  the  young  woman  at  Skipper  Bowser's  ? 

"  O,  it  will  be  all  right  if  I  get  it,"  declared 
Forrest,  and  he  went  to  the  shop  without  further 
interruption.  When,  however,  he  opened  the 
door  of  the  closet  holding  the  drum,  no  drum 
was  there ! 

"  That's  queer !  "  ejaculated  Forrest. 

Queer  undoubtedly,  and  yet  it  was  not 
there.  Neither  could  it  be  found  anywhere 
else.  He  looked  into  the  closet  and  under  the 
closet,  and  tried  to  get  back  of  the  closet,  but  it 
stood  against  the  wall,  and  forbade  rear  inspec- 
tion. He  looked  about  the  shop,  in  corners,  on 
shelves — every-where.     He  even  went  out  and 


One  Side  or  the   Other.  47 

lo<3ked  on  the  roof,  and  then  lie  circumnavi- 
gated the  sliop.  It  did  not  prove  to  be  a  voyage 
of  discovery  by  any  means. 

"  I  know,"  lie  said,  "  that  I  put  it  in  the  closet. 
Yes,  I  am  sure." 

He  here  returned  to  the  closet,  as  if  the  same 
influence  spiriting  it  away  since  yesterday  might 
have  suddenly  spirited  it  back  again. 

"  She  isn't  there  !  "  exclaimed  Forrest,  and  he 
did  not  say  it  good-temperedly.  "They  are 
going  too  !     Perhaps  they  are  gone." 

He  hurried  back,  and  at  the  door  of  Skipper 
Bowser's  there  was  a  waiting  carriage.  Still 
worse,  it  was  a  going  carriage  before  Forrest 
could  reach  it.  He  waved  a  hand  to  the  driver, 
who  pulled  in  his  horses,  and  at  the  same  time  an 
old  woman's  face  appeared  at  the  carriage  win- 
dow on  the  side  of  the  team  opposite  the  wind. 

"  Good-bye  ! "  said  Mrs.  De  Witt. 

A  bright  young  face  with  expressive,  search- 
ing eyes  appeared  beside  the  placid  old  one. 

"  Good-bye  !  "  said  Belle. 

"  Good,  good — "  Forrest  was  stammering. 

"  Don't  forget  what  I  said  about  helping  you, 
and  about  being,  you  know,  a  kind  of  grand- 
mother to  you ;  and  that  is  where  you  will  find 
me,"  said  Mrs,  De  Witt,  reaching  out  a  slip  of 
paper. 


48       Drummer- Boy  of  the  Rappahannock. 

The  impatient  hordes  here  gave  the  carriage  a 
twitch,  and  the  driver  suffered  them  to  give  a 
second  and  a  third,  and  away  they  went,  quickly 
bearing  out  of  sight  the  phicid  face  and  tlie 
j)enetrating  eyes,  and  leaving  a  youth  whose 
countenance  was  flushed  with  surprise  and  dis- 
ajDpointment. 

"  Well,  I  have  this  slip  of  paper,"  thought 
Forrest.  "  That  may  be  of  service.  Yes,  I 
have  it." 

Rather,  he  did  have  it,  but  a  provoking  gust 
of  wind  rushed  upon  it,  and  in  another  mo- 
ment it  was  gone  like  the  carriage !  Forrest 
saw  something  fluttering  out  of  his  hands,  a 
wing  rising  up,  and  then — no  one  could  say 
whither  it  went,  this  wing  without  any  bird. 
The  bird  left  behind  was  a  very  disgruntled 
one. 

"  Pshaw  !  "  he  exclaimed. 

The  wind  did  not  seem  to  like  this,  for  sud- 
denly it  lifted  his  hat,  turning  that  into  a  wing, 
and  uncovering  his  luxuriant  feathers,  or  locks, 
rather,  as  rudely  as  possible. 

"  Let  me  get  it !  Too  bad  ! "  said  a  voice, 
while  long,  heavy  strides  were  taken  by  some- 
body in  the  direction  of  the  vanishing  hat. 

"  There  !  "  said  the  tramp.     "  Take  her !  " 

"  O,  thank  you  !  "  replied  Forrest.     "  Some- 


One  Side  or  the   Other.  49 

how  you  seem  to  be  round  just  when  folks  want 
you." 

"  O,  do  you  think  so  ? " 

It  so  warmed  the  heart  of  this  seemingly 
homeless  tramp  to  think  the  cold  world,  or  even 
one  individual  in  it,  could  possibly  want  him ! 
A  north-east  storm  was  splashing  his  face  with 
arctic-like  rain,  but  in  spite  of  it  a  smile  spread 
over  his  rough  countenance  like  light  shed  down 
from  a  sunny  sky. 

"  Think  so  !  "  replied  Forrest.  "  If  it  hadn't 
been  for  you,  last  night,  I  don't  think  I  should 
have  been  here  to-day.  Ugh!  It  makes  me 
shiver  to  think  of  the  cold  bath  I  got  last  night, 
and  it  came  near  being  my  last  bath,  too." 

"  O  don't  speak  of  that ! "  replied  tlie  tramp. 
And  in  an  instant  he  was  off  upon  another 
subject. 

'•  Who  was  that  old  lady  ? "  he  asked. 

"  A  Mrs.  De  Witt." 

"  Where  does  she  live  ?  " 

Forrest  was  ashamed  to  say  that  he  had  a  lit- 
tle while  ago  a  slip  of  paper  that  told  him  the 
home  of  the  old  lady,  but  he  would  have  con- 
fessed it  if  a  voice  had  not  shouted  through  the 
rain  and  the  wind,  "  Coming  !  " 

It  was  one  of  the  yachtsmen,  hallooing  from 
the  fish-house. 


50       Drummer- Boy  of  the  Ilappahannock. 

"  Yes !  "  replied  the  tramp,  striding  off  toward 
the  fish-house. 

Forrest  turned  into  a  lane  leading  to  his  home 
at  Captain  Frye's.  His  thoughts  went  not  for- 
ward, but  backward  to  that  subject  of  the  drum. 

"  Strange  who  took  it !  I  know !  I  have 
got  it !  Nanny  ! "  said  Forrest,  stopping  in  the 
muddy  road.  "  She  doesn't  like  to  have  me 
drum  nowadays.  Says  it  makes  you  think  too 
much  of  war.     Yes,  it  was  JS^anny." 

The  nearer  he  came  to  his  home,  the  more 
convinced  he  was  that  Nanny  had  abstracted 
that  drum.  When  we  try  hard  to  turn  an  hy- 
pothesis into  a  fact,  it  is  astonishing  what  progress 
we  can  achieve  in  making  fools  of  ourselves. 

"Yes,  it  was  ISTanny,"  Forrest  said  confi- 
dently. "  That  Miss  De  Witt  didn't  act  that 
way." 

Then  he  recalled  this  fact :  that  at  one  point 
in  the  conversation  of  that  morning,  Belle 
De  Witt  turned  toward  him  a  face  the  brilliancy 
of  whose  look  was  like  the  sudden  shining  of  a 
star  out  of  a  cloudy  sky.  He  remembered,  too, 
that  she  held  out  her  hand  and  said,  "  Mr.  Frye, 
I  don't  believe  I  thanked  you  as  I  ought  last 
night,  and  I  shall  not  wait  any  longer  to  tell  you 
how  much  we  feel  indebted  to  you.  You  don't 
know   what   obligations  you  put  us   all   under 


One  Side  or  the   Other.  51 

and  we  were  so  sorry  to  know  you  fell  into  the 
water.  Grandmother  wanted  to  go  and  take 
care  of  you." 

The  stars  in  her  eyes  now  flashed  upon  For- 
rest, and  flashed  through  him  also  as  he  tramped 
amid  the  rain,  and  the  more  vividly  they  shone, 
the  more  emphatically  did  Forrest  say,  "  It  was 
N'anny  who  took  my  drum.  She  hid  it  so  Miss 
De  Witt  could  not  hear  me.  I  don't  believe  she 
likes  that  Miss  De  Witt." 

He  did  not  stop  to  inquire  how  Nanny  could 
possibly  have  known  that  Miss  De  Witt  wished 
to  hear  a  certain  skillful  drummer  called  Forrest 
Hooper.  When  he  had  entered  the  kitchen  of 
the  Frye  house,  he  said,  "Now,  Nannj'-,  what 
did  you  want  to  take  my  drum  for  ? " 

Nanny  waa  making  preparations  for  dinner, 
and  was  dipping  her  hands  into  a  pan  of  flour. 
It  was  a  picturesque  scene  when  Nanny  was 
cooking  in  that  old-fashioned  kitchen.  There 
was  something  in  the  very  contrast  between 
this  ancient  room,  with  its  big,  brown  beams 
projecting  from  the  plastered  walls,  every  piece 
of  timber  so  old,  and  this  worker  at  the  bread- 
pan  whose  aspect  and  movements  all  spoke  of 
youth.  Nanny  took  pride  in  her  appearance 
not  only  in  the  parlor  but  in  the  kitchen. 

"I'm  going   to  cook,"  she  would  say,   "and 


52       Dranimer-Boy  of  the  Rappahannock. 

I'll  put  on  this,"  arranging  a  snowy  white  cap. 
"  Then  I'll  have  on  my  white  apron  ;  and  father 
says  my  bread  is  sweeter  and  nicer  than  that  of 
any  body  else,  and  he  says  it  is  owing  to  my 
dress.  So  I'll  put  on  this,"  and  under  her  well- 
shaped  chin  she  would  tuck  a  soft  mull  bow. 

The  dress  she  loved  to  wear  was  a  light  straw- 
colored  calico,  overrun  with  a  delicate  green 
vine.  As  Nanny  had  a  clear,  bright  com- 
plexion, these  colors  were  in  entire  harmony. 
Then  she  would  turn  back  her  flowing  sleeves 
from  her  plump,  round  arms,  and  no  pair  of 
arras  among  all  the  young  women  in  town  could 
work  quicker  or  more  successfully.  Forrest  was 
generally  accustomed  to  think,  when  he  saw  Nan- 
ny at  her  work,  "  If  Nanny  knew  how  becoming 
her  dress  was  she  would  wear  it  all  the  time." 

He  did  not  say  this  now  to  Forrest  Hooper, 
but,  bursting  into  the  kitchen,  he  abruptly 
flung  out  the  charge,  "Now,  Nanny,  tell  me 
where  you  put  my  drum  !  " 

If  Nanny  had  met  him  in  a  style  as  warm  and 
ill-tempered  as  his,  Forrest  would  not  have  felt 
at  so  great  a  disadvantage.  Yery  coolly  she 
said,  which  warmed  him  up,  "  Your  drum,  For- 
rest? "  She  said  it  in  her  sweet,  silvery  tones. 
He  might  be  a  drummer,  but  she  was  a  bugler. 

"  Yes,  my  drum  ;  now  tell  me  where  it  is." 


One  Side  or  the  Other.  53 

ISTanny  was  something  of  a  tease.  She  began 
to  play  with  the  young  man  as  a  cat  would  with 
a  mouse.  Keeping  those  smooth,  placid  tones, 
she  asked : 

"  Do  you  really  think,  Forrest,  I  have  taken 
your  drum  out  of  your  closet  ? " 

"  Why,  yes ;  I  can't  find  it." 

"I  did  not  remove  your  drum." 

Forrest  paused. 

"  Well,  you  know  where  it  is.  Perhaps  you 
did  not  take  it,  but  you  got  some  one  to  hide  it." 

"Forrest,  Forrest,"  said  the  calm,  silvery 
voice,  "  I  did  not  get  any  body  to  hide  it.  Now, 
good  brother" — she  often  called  him  by  that 
title — "  I  want  some  sugar  from  Gilljert  French's 
store.     Won't  you  please  get  me  some  ? " 

Forrest  was  not  satisfied  with  Nanny's  state- 
ment, though  he  was  much  dissatisfied  with 
himself  for  making  such  hasty  and  abrupt 
charges.  He  was  vexed  with  himself,  but  he 
could  not  long  stay  mad  with  Nanny ;  a  thing 
which  this  young  lady  perfectly  understood. 
He  in  turn  understood  some  things  about  Nanny. 
He  knew  her  turns  of  expression.  He  had  learned 
some  of  the  methods  of  this  picturesque  cook, 
and  he  had  reason  to  suspect  from  lier  tone  and 
air  that  she  had  not  told  every  thing  she  knew 
about  the  drum. 


54         Drummer-Boy  of  the  Ea2'>paJunmoc7c. 

"  I  don't  feel  like  going  after  the  sugar.  Don't 
feel  sweet  enough,"  lie  was  inwardly  saying. 

Captain  Frye,  though,  hapj^ened  to  come  into 
the  kitchen. 

•'  When  I  used  to  go  to  sea"— he  had  been  a 
master  of  a  vessel,  and  this  gave  him  his  title— 
"  When  I  used  to  go  to  sea,"  he  repeated,  "  I 
didn't  wonder  if  we  sometimes  «:ot  out  of  things  ; 
but  here  on  land,  it  seems,  being  so  near  your 
place  of  supply,  as  if  you  never  w^ould  get  out 
of  things.  However,  we  do ;  and,  Forrest,  we 
need  some  sugar,  if  you  will  just  step  up  to  the 
store." 

Forrest  had  been  trained  to  prompt  obedience, 
and,  throwing  a  dissatisfied  look  toward  that  teas- 
ing and  yet  fascinating  cook,  started  at  once  on 
his  errand.  Nanny  did  not  raise  her  eyes.  She 
looked  very  demure  and  innocent,  very  sweet 
and  good,  and  silently  she  continued  to  thrust 
her  arms  down  into  the  flour. 

It  was  half  a  mile  to  the  store  ^vhere  Gilbert 
French,  a  young  man  at  least  a  dozen  years  older 
than  Forrest,  did  a  thriving  business.  By  the 
time  Forrest  reached  this  store,  planted  at  a 
corner  where  two  roads  intersected,  and  made  an 
opportunity  for  the  developing  of  a  small  busi- 
ness center,  he  had  seen  sufficient  people  in  the 
road  and  the  houses  beside  the  road  to  turn  off  his 


One  Side  or  the  Other.  55 

tlionglits  from  the  subject  of  the  drum  and  re- 
store him  to  good  humor. 

Gilbert  was  alone.  He  was  a  small,  grasping 
soul.  He  was  understood  to  be  very  ''  fore- 
handed," although  still  young;  owning  his 
stock  of  goods  and  several  houses,  and  a  distil- 
lery at  a  neat  village  called  the  "  Port."  For- 
rest did  not  like  him;  partly  because  he  was 
Gilbert  French,  and  also  because  Gilbert  French 
liked  Nanny  Frye.  The  young  storekeeper 
will  be  pictured  in  detail  elsewhere.  It  is  only 
necessary  here  to  think  of  him  as  a  sharp,  shrewd 
man  behind  a  counter,  and  about  as  sensitive  to 
what  was  fair  and  honorable  as  that  counter. 
His  character  was  somewhat  disguised  under  a 
pleasant  address  and  kindly  toned  voice,  even  as 
the  upper  end  of  that  same  hard,  unfeeling 
counter  was  hidden  under  a  long  show-case,  one 
half  filled  with  candy  and  the  other  occupied  with 
cake  of  various  kinds.  People  that  traded  long 
and  intimately  with  Gilbert  French,  sooner  or 
later  got  through  the  candy  and  cake  exterior,  and 
came  to  the  real  and  abiding  hardness  of  the  man. 
Forrest  nodded  to  Gilbert,  and  said :  "  I  want 
four  pounds  of  sngar !  " 

"  Good  day,  Forrest !     Brown  or  white  ?  " 
"  Brown,  I  guess,  for  cooking ;  but  you  might 
give  me  a  pound  of  white." 


56         Drummer-Boy  of  the  Rappahannock. 

Gilbert's  long  riglit  arm,  clutcliing  a  scoop, 
went  down  into  a  barrel  of  sugar. 

"  Hungry  ?  "  asked  Gilbert. 

"  Me  %  "  said  Forrest  in  astonishment.  "  Do  I 
look  so?" 

"  Didn't  know  but  that  your  wetting  last  night 
would  give  you  an  appetite.  They  w^ere  telling 
me  about  it." 

"  I  did  get  a  wetting.  Thought  one  time  I 
shouldn't  come  up  again.     I  feel  all  right  now." 

"  If  it  hadn't  been  for  that  tramp,  where 
would  you  have  been  this  morning  ?  "  said  Gil- 
bert, shoveling  his  sugar  into  the  scales. 

"  I  know  it.  I  might  not  have  been  here  if  it 
hadn't  been  for  him." 

"  I  asked  if  you  were  Imngrj^,"  said  Gilbert, 
throwing  a  quick  glance  at  the  cake  in  the  show- 
case, "  for  I  have  something  first-class  there,  and 
a  prize  goes  with  it.  Got  a  ring  in  it ;  that  is, 
in  one  of  the  slices." 

"Who  gets  the  ring?" 

"O,  the  lucky  one  buying  the  slice.  I  sell 
the  cake  for  iifty  cents  a  slice,  and  the  ring, 
well —  I'll  bet  it  is  worth  ten  dollars  at  a  fair 
valuation.  'Twould  be  nice  to  have  that  ring 
for  a  friend." 

Forrest  thought  of  ISTanny.  It  would  look 
pretty  on  one  of  her  well-shaped,  tapering  lingers. 


One  Side  or  the  Other.  57 

"  I  have  thonglit  myself  of  giving  it — that  is, 
take  the  cake  out  of  the  case,  and  present  the 
ring  to  somebody  living  not  far  from  you — ha ! 
ha !  "  said  Gilbert. 

Did  he  mean  Nanny  ?     Of  course  he  did. 

"  I'll  take  it—"  said  Forrest.     He  hesitated. 

"  You  mean  a  slice  ?  Of  course  it  may  be  in 
that  very  slice.  But  it  is  only  a  half-dollar  any 
way,  and  you  stand  as  good  a  chance  as  any 
body." 

As  Gilbert  spoke  his  fingers  were  sliding 
toward  the  tempting  loaf. 

"  Plold  on  !  "  exclaimed  Forrest. 

"  What  say,  Forrest  1 " 

"  I  didn't  think.  I  don't  believe  I  like  that 
way  of  getting  rings." 

"  You  don't  mean  to  say  you  have  any  scru- 
ples about  such  a  little  thing  as  that?  " 

Forrest  did  not  have  any  scruples  at  first,  but 
when  he  imagined  himself  offering  the  ring  to 
Nanny,  over  her  shoulder  he  saw  Captain  Frye's 
face  and  a  rebuke  was  on  it.  Then  came  the 
blacksmith's  voice  :  "  That  is  not  right,  Forrest. 
Take  sides !  " 

And  when  Forrest  heard  that  injunction,  he 
"  took  sides  "  at  once. 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  bluntly,  "  I  have  scruples.  It 
looks  like  a  lottery." 


58        Drummer-Boy  of  the  Rappahannock. 

Here  Gilbert  shut  the  case,  leaned  his  long 
form  against  a  post,  tipped  back  his  head,  threw 
up  his  hands,  and  threatened  to  laugh  himself 
into  convulsions.  He  stopped  to  slap  his  knees, 
and  scream, 

"If  lever!     If  I  ever  !  " 

Then  he  began  again  to  laugh,  "  Ha  !  ha  !  ha !" 
He  concluded  after  a  while  to  stop,  and  said, 

"  "Well,  here^s  your  sugar !  Let's  have  a  trade 
somehow.  Four  pounds  of  brown  sugar,  and 
one  of  white  % " 

"I  can  only  pay  for  four.  That's  all  the 
money  I  brought,  but  I  think  they  can't  want 
all  brown." 

"  O,  I'll  charge  for  the  white.  That's  a  good 
one !  Couldn't  buy  a  slice  of  cake  because 
poor  !  Haven't  you  any  money  ?  I'll  charge 
that,  too." 

"  No ! "  said  Forrest,  and  he  made  a  short, 
sharp,  "  no  "  of  it. 

"  See  here !  I  want  to  give  you  some  advice. 
Don't  lug  that  conscience  round  with  you — the 
Cap'n  Frye  conscience." 

"Let  me  give  you  some  good  advice,"  replied 
Forrest,  warmly.  "Don't  lug  that  Gilbert 
French  conscience  round  with  you." 

"  Gilbert  French  knows  what  he  is  up  to,"  said 
the  storekeeper,  with  a  cool  unconcern.     "  He  is 


One  &kle  or  the  Other.  59 

going  to  look  after  his  own  interests,  and  see 
others  take  care  of  theirs.  Look  at  Caj^'n  Frye  ! 
Growing  poorer  and  poorer.  That  house  of  his 
back  in  the  grove — he  does  not  hold  on  to  it  and 
let  it  to  folks  that  can  pay  something,  but  he 
allows  those  niggers  to  go  in  there ;  lazy,  real 
lazy,  I  call  'em  ;  and  he  doesn't  get  a  cent  for  his 
property.  Why,  next  thing  I  expect  to  hear 
from  him  is  that  he  has  gone  to  the  war,  and  is 
fighting  for  the  blacks  down  South." 

"  No  danger  that  you  will  go — " 

"Me?  I  guess  not!  Them  that  made  the 
war  may  run  it.  I  don't  put  my  fingers  in  tliat 
door-crack.  Say,  Forrest !  Why  don't  ijou  go  to 
the  war,  if  you  think  so  much  of  the  darkey ! 
They  say  you  are  an  awful  good  drummer." 

Gilbert  was  cunning.  He  had  been  rubbing 
the  cat's  back  the  wrong  way  until  Forrest  could 
hardly  speak  in  his  indignation,  and  now  Gil- 
bert proceeded  to  smootli  down  the  ruffled  fur. 
But  Forrest  was  not  ready  for  peace  yet.  He 
had  a  very  glum  face.  He  shut  up  his  tongue 
between  his  teeth  and  sullenly  looked  on  the 
floor. 

"  You'd  make  a  good  drummer,"  said  Gilbert 
again.  "  Come,  Fll  make  you  an  offer.  If  you 
go,  you  shall  have  as  handsome  a  uniform  as 
you  can  buy  in  the  county." 


60       Drummer-Boy  of  the  Rappahannock. 

What !  Did  Gilbert  French  mean  this  ?  If 
Forrest  had  thought  into  the  matter,  he  would 
have  wondered  whj  Gilbert  French  talked  that 
way.  He  would  have  said  :  "  Why  does  this 
man  want  to  get  me  to  the  war  ? " 

Gilbert's  change  of  tactics  was  so  rapid  that 
Forrest  was  not  as  prompt  to  make  any  inqui- 
ries needing  a  careful  answer.  He  regarded 
Gilbert's  talk  as  a  kind  of  gasconade,  for  which 
the  storekeeper  was  famous.  He  did  not  then 
think  that  Gilbert  had  any  sincere  purpose  to 
help  him,  or  any  body  else,  go  to  the  war. 
Some  others  in  the  neighborhood  who  were 
watching  Gilbert's  business  relations  with  the 
blacksmith,  and  Gilbert's  interest  in  E'anny, 
could  have  thrown  at  least  one  candle-ray  of 
information  on  the  subject  of  Gilbert's  sud- 
denly manifested  desire  to  get  Forrest  off  to 
the  war.  Forrest,  though,  had  an  answer  for 
Gilbert,  and  the  answer  was  a  kind  of  meas- 
urement of  the  boy's  manly  sense  of  htness; 
"  I  am  obliged  to  any  one  for  interest  in  me 
but  I  couldn't  take  any  thing  that  would  look 
like  a  coaxinsj  for  me  to  g:o.  What  the  ZQ\- 
ernment  gives — the  old  blouse — will  be  good 
enough  for  me." 

"  Ain't  ye  going  to  ask  for  any  thing  more'n  a 
blouse  ?  "  asked  Gilbert,  sneeringly.     '-  No  ?  I'll 


One  Side  or  the  Other.  61 

tell  yon — I'll  tell  you — what  the  trouble  is  with 
you." 

Gilbert  spoke  with  what  he  intended  should 
pass  for  an  impressive  slowness.  He  pointed  a 
long,  bony  finger  at  Forrest,  and  this  he  purposed 
should  give  an  exceeding  impressiveness  to  his 
words. 

"  Boy,  you — don't — dare — to — go — to — the — 
war!     You — are — afraid,  you — are  afraid!" 

"Afraid!  Just  give  me  a  chance!  You'll 
see  who  is  afraid.  The  captain  knows  where  I 
stand.  Just  give  me  a  chance !  He  has  never 
been  willing." 

Forrest  certainly  did  not  look  afraid  of  any 
thing.  His  compact,  sturdy  form  was  stretched 
as  high  as  possible.  His  blue  eyes  snapped.  His 
face  had  just  that  resoluteness  and  defiance  in 
which  good  soldiery  finds  its  inspiration.  He  had 
thus  thrown  his  head  back  unconsciously  when 
across  that  elevated  countenance  it  was  singular 
what  a  changed  expression  was  instantly  flashed. 
It  was  almost  comical.  His  head  tlms  thrown 
back,  he  had  caught  a  sight  of  Gilbert's  clock 
on  a  shelf  above  his  groceries.  The  hands  were 
about  folding  at  twelve.  Such  a  sleepily  tick- 
ing clock  never  provoked  one  to  greater  energy 

"You  don't  say!"  said  Forrest.  "Where's 
that  sutj:ar  ?     Twelve  o'clock  !     Whew  ! " 


62       Dnuiimer-Boy  of  the  Rappahannock. 

lie  seized  the  two  packages  and  liiirried  to  tlie 
door.  As  lie  opened  it,  lie  heard  a  laugh,  and 
the  word  also,  "  Afraid !  " 

''  1^0,  sir !  "  shouted  Forrest,  springing  away 
from  the  threshold.  "  I'll  go  if  I  have  a 
chance." 

While  in  sight  of  the  houses  at  the  corners, 
he  walked ;  out  of  sight,  he  forsook  this  deco- 
rous gait  and  ran,  saying,  "  What  will  Nanny 
think ! " 

He  could  at  last  see  the  old  chimney  of  tlie 
Frye  house  jutting  above  the  well-known  and 
nmch-loved  orchard  belonging  to  the  place. 

"  There's  George  ! ''  said  Forrest.  "  He  has 
just  come  out  of  his  house.  He  is  stopping  and 
looking  at  me.  Wonder  what  he  wants  !  Won- 
der if  he  w^ants  to  say  any  thing !  " 

Yes,  George  wanted  to  say  something.  His 
skin  was  very  black,  and  the  white  of  his  eyes 
and  the  red  of  his  lips  were  in  marked  contrast 
with  that  dusky  background. 

"  Forrest,"  he  said,  "  you  miss  yer  drum  ? " 

"  Why,  yes,  I  can't  find  it,"  replied  Forrest, 
hurrying  past  liim,  thinking  not  of  the  drum, 
but  of  ]^anny's  sugar. 

"  I  jes'  ax  Nanny  dis  yer  mornin'  if  yer  would 
jes'  lemme  an'  that  feller " 

"  The  tramp  ?  " 


One  Side  or  the  Other.  03 

"  Jes'  so — a — look  at  it.  He  were  cur'us  to  see 
de  make  ob  it,  an'  Nanny  tole  me  we  mouglit, 
an'  1  look  at  it  jes'  easy  an'  put  it  back  on  top 
ob  de  closet.  Forgot,  ye  see,  to  stick  it  in- 
side  " 

"  You  did  ?     On  top  ?  " 

"  Jes'  so.     You  'scuse  it " 

"0,yes." 

Forrest  was  now  hurrying  through  the  side 
door  of  the  Frye  house,  George  following  him 
to  the  threshold. 

"  Dat  tramp  sez  he  know  you,"  cried  George, 
holding  on  to  this  fleeting  opportunity  for  con- 
versation. 

"Well,  I  don't  know  him — only  seen  him," 
replied  Forrest,  closing  the  door. 

"  There,  Nanny,"  he  said,  laying  the  sugar  on 
the  table,  "  Fm, sorry  I  didn't  get  here " 

"Two  packages?" 

"  One  brown  and  the  other  white.  You  didn't 
say  what,  and  I  got  both." 

"  Then  you  had  to  charge  one,  for  you  didn't 
have  money  enongii  for  both." 

"Yes — I — I  charged  it,  or  had  it  charged," 
replied  Forrest,  confusedly. 

"O,  Forrest!  I  thought  you  would  under- 
stand it  was  only  brown  we  wanted " 

"  But  you  didn't  say." 


G4       Drummer-Boy  of  the  Rappahannoch. 

"  I  know  it,  but  I  was  cooking  and  tliouglit 
you  would  see.     That  Gilbert  French " 

She  stopped,  and  looked  toward  a  door  open- 
ing into  the  sitting-room,  where  Captain  Frje 
had  been  waiting  for  dinner  and  in  the  mean- 
time sleeping  over  the  Weekly  Courier^  2)ublished 
at  the  "  Port."  Closing  this  door,  she  said,  "  I 
don't  want  any  thing  more  charged  to  father 
there  at  Gilbert  French's,  not  one  cent.  I  had 
rather  go  without  sugar  all  my  life.  I  don't 
know,  of  course,  every  thing,  but  I  do  know  that 
father  is  in  debt  to  him,  and  I  am  not  willing 
to  give  that  scamp  of  a  Gilbert  French  any  more 
advantage  over  father  and " 

How  Forrest  enjoyed  this  denunciation  !  He 
forgot  all  about  the  drum.  He  expressed 
regret  for  the  charging  of  the  sugar. 

"  I'll  pay  it  myself,  l^anny.  And  any  thing 
charged,  I'll  have  it  charged  to  me." 

"  To  you,  Forrest  \  " 

ISTanny  stepped  back  from  the  stove.  She 
had  in  her  cooking  used  molasses  for  sugar,  and 
was  now  frying  nuts  in  a  pan  on  the  stove.  In 
one  hand  was  a  knife,  in  the  other  a  fork,  A 
fierce,  unusual  light  snapped  in  her  hazel  eyes, 
and  she  looked  warlike  as  a  Saragossan  heroine 
in  the  famous  siege  of  the  old  Spanish  city. 

"  Forrest,  don't  you  come  under  any  obligation 


One  Side  or  the  Other.  65 

to  Gilbert  French,  not  for  one  cent.  Remember, 
lie  is  a  bad  man,  and  people  don't  know  it.  He 
will  have  his  hard,  cruel  hands  on  you  just  as  I 
ain  afraid  he  has  them  on  father.  What  did  he 
have  to  say  to  you  this  morning  ?  " 

Forrest  saw  the  threatening  knife  and  fork, 
and  he  mischievously  enjoyed  the  thought  that 
Nanny's  attitude  must  mean  a  warning  to  Gil- 
bert French.  lie  could  not  help  telling  her 
every  thing.  Somehow  Nanny  always  came  into 
possession  of  his  secrets.  He  told  also  about  the 
ring-cake  to  be  sold  in  shares. 

"  O,  how  small  and  belittling  for  a  man  !  "  de- 
clared Nanny. 

Then  Forrest  told  about  the  going-to-war  epi- 
sode. 

"  And  he  led  you  to  say  you  would  go  if  you 
had  a  chance,  Forrest  ?  " 

"  That  is  how  it  ended." 

"  He  ought  to  be  hung,"  said  Nanny,  but  she 
did  not  say  it  aloud.  It  was  the  decision  of  a 
judge  giving  sentence  in  the  depths  of  the  soul. 
She  could  not  speak.  She  turned  to  her  frying- 
pan,  where  the  nuts  of  this  neglectful  cook  were 
not  browning,  but  blackening.  Silently  she  took 
up  her  work  and  silently  she  pursued  it.  She 
was  busily  thinking  and  intensely  feeling.  Once, 
in  passing  her,  Forrest  touched  her  hands. 


66       Drummer-Boy  of  the  Rappahannock. 

"  Why,  Nanny,  how  cold  your  hands  are ! 
You  sick?" 

She  shook  her  head.  The  blood  was  going 
from  her  hands  to  feed  the  Hres  kindled  in  her 
heart. 

She  passed  him  again  when  he  was  helping  her 
in  the  removal  of  the  dishes  from  the  pantry  to 
the  table.     In  a  low  voice,  she  said, 

"  Forrest,  I'm  sorry  I  teased  you  about  your 
drum  this  morninsr." 


The  Tramp's  Disgrace.  67 


CHAPTER    lY. 

THE  TRAMP'S  DISGRACE. 

THE  storm-clouds  liad  emptied  their  fury  on 
the  earth.  These  collapsed  vapor-bags  had 
been  rolled  up  and  rolled  away.  The  sun  was 
shining  again.  Tlie  yachtsmen  and  the  tramp 
still  occupied  the  fish-house,  but  it  was  under- 
stood that  in  another  day  it  would  be  vacated  ; 
for  the  yachtsmen  were  going  home. 

"  I  would  Hke  to  have  you  stay  behind  a  day 
or  two,  to  see  if  the  captain  of  my  yacht  turns 
up,"  Mrs.  De  Witt  had  told  her  men.  "  If  you 
prefer  to  stay  in  the  fish  house  I  will  pay  Skip- 
per Bowser  for  any  trouble  it  may  put  him  to, 
and  here  is  money  for  your  food  and  for  your 
fare  home  also.  You  will  soon  find  out  if  the 
missing  skipper  should  turn  up." 

The  missing  one  turned  up.  He  had  previ- 
ously landed  in  his  boat  at  a  point  from  which 
there  was  no  re-embarkation  until  the  storm  was 
over,  and  in  the  meantime  he  had  permitted  a 
farmer  to  take  care  of  him.  When  he  appeared 
on  the  shore,  not  far  from  Skipper  Bowser's  fish- 


68       Drummer- J3oy  of  the  Rappahannock. 

house,  he  was  eagerly  hailed  by  his  fellow-yachts- 
men, and  they  made  him  at  home  in  what  Trickey 
was  pleased  to  call  the  Hotel  Bowser.  The 
question  then  arose,  how  soon  they  had  better 
take  their  departure,  as  Mrs.  De  Witt's  wishes 
had  been  met.  It  was  concluded  to  start  the 
next  day,  leaving  the  boat  in  Skipper  Bowser's 
care. 

"  It  will  end  probably  in  Mrs.  De  Witt's  mak- 
ing a  present  of  it  to  you,"  said  the  yacht-captain 
to  the  Skipper,  and  he  proved  to  be  a  true 
prophet. 

That  afternoon,  who  should  be  at  the  shore  but 
Gilbert  French. 

"  He  came  like  an  evil  spirit,"  JSTannj^  subse- 
quently reported  to  Mrs.  Bowser.  "  Forrest 
was  down  at  the  fish-house  and  saw  and  heard  it 
all.  Gilbert  said  he  wanted  help  right  away  at 
liis  distillery,  about  shipping  some  barrels.  He 
looked  'round — just  like  a  snake,  I  imagine — 
told  them  they  were  all  strong,  fine  fellows,  and 
he  would  give  them  a  job  for  a  few  hours  and 
pay  them  well.  Forrest  said  tlie  tramp  looked 
sort  of  pitifully  at  him,  as  if  wondering  wliat  he 
had  better  do,  and  wanting  Forrest,  you  know, 
to  advise.  Gilbert  wanted  Forrest  to  go  and 
help  trundle  those  old  poison-barrels  from  tlie 
distillery — " 


Tke  Trcmip's  Disgrace.  69 

"  And  I  don't  believe  be  did,  any  more  tban 
Cap'n  Frje  would,"  remarked  Mrs.  Bowser. 

"  I  guess  not,  Mrs.  Bowser !  Forrest,  as  fatber 
often  says,  '  took  sides '  at  once,  and  said  no. 
Gilbert  didn't  like  it,  and  poobed  at  bim ;  but 
Forrest  didn't  care.  Well,  to  make  a  long  story 
sbort,  tbe  men,  wben  tbey  came  back,  brougbt 
liquor  witb  tbem  and  were  bound  to  bave  a  cel- 
ebration, tbeir  last  nigbt  in  tbe  fisli-bouse.  Tbat 
was  tbe  wbole  matter  in  a  nut-sbell." 

"  And  you  suppose  my  busband  would  bave 
allowed  it,  if  be  bad  known  it  ?  I  guess  not 
Nanny." 

But  tlie  skipper  did  not  know  of  this  con- 
vivial plan.  Tbe  storm  bad  cleared  away,  tbe 
stars  were  out  tbat  evening,  and  be  went  to  "  tbe 
corners "  to  transact  a  little  business.  About 
nine,  Forrest  happened  to  be  down  on  tbe  shore. 
He  saw  lights  twinkling  out  of  the  windows  of 
tbe  fish-house.  He  beard  occasional  roars  of 
laughter,  and  the  ocean,  as  if  in  a  convivial  mood, 
seemed  to  be  roaring  back  in  one  loud,  boister- 
ous monotone.  As  Forrest  stepped  up  to  the 
door  of  the  fish-house,  wondering  when  the  men 
had  returned  from  the  distillery,  tbe  door  opened, 
and  out  stepped  Trickey.  He  spied  Forrest 
standing  in  the  little  sphere  of  light  widening 
out  into  the  nio-ht. 


10       Drummer- Boy  of  the  Rappahannock. 

"  Hullo  !  here  is  the  cutest  boy  in  the  world  ! 
Come  in.  We  are  tapping  Gilbert  French's 
whisky.  Come  in  ;  you  got  to  !  "  said  Trickey, 
roughly. 

His  manner  was  offensive,  but  Forrest  was  in- 
clined to  enter,  for  he  wanted  to  see  what  was 
going  on.  He  looked  round  with  curious  eyes 
that  absorbed  every  thing. 

On  the  head  of  one  of  the  skipper's  old  iish- 
barrels  were  placed  two  bottles  and  several 
glasses.  A  pitcher  of  water  suggested  weakening 
for  those  who  were  thus  inclined,  but  Forrest 
did  not  see  that  any  one  was  inclined  to  trouble 
the  water.  There  was  also  the  traditional  sugar 
in  a  paper  bag,  and  this  was  troubled.  On  old, 
disused  casks  turned  upside  down  sat  the  yachts- 
men, while  the  tramp  M'as  in  a  corner.  They 
had  not  been  drinking  long,  and  the  whisky  as 
yet  did  not  have  control  of  the  yachtsmen's 
brains,  though  the  burglar  had  entered.  The 
tramp  was  noisily  telling  a  war-story,  but  he 
stopped  when  he  saw  Forrest. 

"  Come  !  "  he  shouted,  "  get  your  drum !  That 
is  what  we  need ;  that  will  put  the  war  into 
us." 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Forrest,  "  I  guess  not  to- 
night, if  you  don't  care." 

"  Besides,  if  the  war-element  were  needed," 


The  Tramp's  Disgrace.  71 

he  tlionglit,  "the  whisky  would  soon  infuse 
tliat."  The  company,  save  the  tramp,  did  not 
mind  Forrest's  refusal ;  the  tramp  did  care.  Soon 
he  made  another  request,  and  in  a  tone  which 
was  a  bit  peremptory. 

"If  you  can't  beat  the  drum,  sing  us  a  song." 

"  Ha !  ha !  "  laughed  Forrest.  "  I  would  like 
to  sing,  but  I  am  not  much  of  a  hand  at  it. 
They  say  at  the  house  I  sing  best  when  I  am 
tnad,  and  I  can't  get  mad  in  a  company  like  this." 

"No,  no!"  said  Griffin.  "You  are  right 
there." 

Griffin  was  a  big,  good-natured  body  that 
Forrest  liked.     He  disliked  Trickey. 

The  tramp  said  nothing  more  at  that  time,  but 
he  looked  sullen.  Forrest  noticed  that  he  drank 
carelessly  and  heavily,  while  the  others  sipped 
sparingly,  as  if  conscious  that  they  were  kindling 
a  fire  they  might  find  it  hard  to  put  out. 

Forrest  still  lingered,  mostly  because  he  felt 
that  the  convivialists  were  on  the  edge  of  anight 
of  trouble,  and  he  was  wondering  whether  he  had 
better  tell  the  skipper  that  his  property  might 
be  exposed  to  danger.  While  he  tarried  in  this 
undecided  state   the  tramp  called  out  to  him, 

"Take  a  drink!" 

"  Thank  you,  but  I  had  better  not,"  replied 
Forrest,  pleasantly. 


72       Dnunmer-Boy  of  the  Rappahannock. 

The  tramp  rose  from  liis  seat  uiDon  an  old 
tub. 

"  Take  it !  "  he  said,  peremptorily,  offering  a 
glass. 

"  Quiet !  quiet !  "  called  out  Griffin. 

"  I  want  him  to  take  it,"  insisted  the  tramp, 
in  thick,  husky  tones. 

"  Take  it !  "  angrily  urged  Trickey. 

"  O,  no,  I  thank  you,"  replied  Forrest. 

The  tramj)  scowled.  His  voice  was  any  thing 
but  pacific. 

"  I  command  you.    I  have  a  right." 

Forrest's  blood  was  up,  flushing  his  face,  ting- 
ling out  to  his  finger-tips. 

"  You  have  a  right  ?  "  he  replied,  indignantly. 
"  I  dispute  that.  I  will  not  take  any  of  your 
whisky." 

It  was  a  vivid  picture,  that  old  fish-house,  with 
its  motley  contents  of  tubs,  oars,  barrels,  boxes, 
nets,  and  sails,  the  three  yachtsmen  in  their  trim 
suits  looking  on  in  wonder,  their  glasses  lowered 
from  their  lips,  while  the  tramp,  angrily  scowl- 
ing, held  out  a  glass  to  a  boy  nearing  the  age  of 
manhood,  and  already  a  man  in  his  bold,  defiant 
attitude  before  temptation. 

"  You  won't  take  this  f   Then  take that ! " 

shouted  the  tramp,  lowering  the  glass  in  his  left 
hand,  but  raising  his  right  arm  to  strike  heavily. 


The  Tramp's  Disgrace.  73 

Another  moment  and  he  would  have  struck,  and 
struck  hard;  violently  ;  but  Griffin  quickly  rushed 
up  to  him  and  forced  him  back.  It  seemed  to 
sober  him — to  wake  him  out  of  his  intoxicated 
mood  into  a  momentary  realization  of  what  he 
had  done.  He  fell  back  into  his  seat,  dropped 
his  head,  and  was  silent,  as  if  ashamed. 

"  Good-night !  "  cried  Forrest.  "  I  think  I  have 
stayed  long  enough." 

Trickey  would  have  stopped  him,  but  Griffin 
interfered,  and  Forrest  retreated  from  the  fish- 
house,  wondering  if  he  had  better  report  to 
Skipper  Bowser. 

"1^0,  I  won't  tell  of  them,"  he  concluded. 
"  I'll  stay  up  myself,  and  watch  round,  and  see 
that  they  do  no  harm — if  I  can." 

He  walked  toward  the  skipper's  home  and 
then  came  back  to  the  fish-house. 

"  Why,  it  is  dark  !  Guess  they  have  put  out 
the  hght  and  gone  to  bed.  May  be  ashamed  of 
themselves,"  concluded  Forrest.  "Don't  hear 
a  sound." 

JS'othing  noiser  than  the  wind  about  the 
premises.  Forrest  went  away,  but  soon  came 
back  again. 

"  Don't  see  or  hear  any  thing,"  said  the  watch- 
man. "  It  must  be  all  right,  and  I'll  go  home. 
They  are  all  asleep,  probably." 


74       Drummer-Boy  of  the  Rappahannock. 

All  asleep  now.  The  yaclitsmeD,  fearing 
trouble  if  they  prolonged  their  carousal,  had  hus- 
tled the  tramp  into  his  bunk,  and  then  each  man 
stowed  himself  away  in  his  narrow  quarters. 
All  quiet  within.  Outside,  through  the  night, 
the  ocean  kept  up  its  noise  like  an  over-vigilant 
dog  prolonging  its  growl  until  morning.  The 
yachtsmen  were  up  early. 

"  Come  !  "  said  Trickey,  going  to  the  bunk  of 
the  tramp  and  shaking  him  out  of  a  stupid 
slumber.  "  Come !  Get  up,  if  you  want  to  see 
us  off.  We  take  the  cars  this  morning — going 
to  leave  for  good — and  it  will  take  a  full  hour's 
walk  for  us  to  get  there.     Good  luck  to  ye  !  " 

The  tramp,  sleepily  muttering  a  remonstrance 
at  this  interruption,  arose  nevertheless,  and  sat 
on  the  edge  of  the  bunk,  watching  the  move- 
ments of  the  men  hastily  stuffing  their  few  pos- 
sessions into  two  carpet-bags. 

"Want  to  give  you  one  piece  of  advice,"  said 
Griffin  to  the  tramp,  who  in  a  drowsy  kind  of 
indifference  sat  on  the  edge  of  his  bunk  still 
eyeing  the  yachtsmen. 

"  What  is  it  ?  '  asked  the  tramp. 

"Just  make  things  pleasant,  if  you're  'goin' 
to  stay  round  liere,  and  tell  that  young  chap — " 

"What  chap?" 

"  Tliat  one  tliey  call  '  Forrest.'     Tell  him  3'ou 


Tlie  Tramp's  Disgrace.  75 

didn't  mean  any  thing  when  you  pitched  into 
him  last  night." 

"  I  didn't  pitch  into  him.'' 

"Ha!  ha!"  said  Trickey.  "  You  came  pretty 
near  stretching  him  out  straight  and  flat  as  a 
ship's  keel." 

"  Me  ?  "  asked  the  astonished  tramp.  "  I 
don't  remember." 

"Of  course  you  don't,"  said  Trickey,  teasingly. 
'You  know  what  they  say  about  the  wine  being 
in  and  the  wit  being  out." 

"  Tell  me  what  I  did,"  he  said,  appealing  to 
Grifiin,  who  had  a  pitying  look. 

Griffin  rehearsed  the  details  of  the  affair  of 
the  previous  evening.  The  only  response  of 
the  tramp  was  a  pitiful  cry, 

"  I  didn't  do  that ;  did  I !     O  what  a  fool !  " 

He  threw  himself  back  upon  his  rough  bed, 
and  lay  there  in  a  mood  of  touching  silence,  his 
eyes  lixed  on  the  black  ceiling  above  him,  not 
seeming  to  notice  when  the  yachtsmen  left,  or 
when  Skipper  Bowser  entered  the  fish-house 
and  took  from  it  a  pair  of  oars. 

Later  that  day  the  skipper  was  at  work  in  his 
boat-shop. 

"  I  am  an  amphibious  bein',"  the  skipper  once 
said ;  "  workin'  half  the  time  on  the  water  and 
t'oth^-  half  on  land.     When  I  can't  fish  I  can 


76       Drummer- Boy  of  the  Rappahannock. 

make  boats,  and  wlien  folks  don't  want  to  buy 
boats  I  can  fish." 

The  skipper's  boat-house  was  at  the  foot  of 
his  garden,  and  in  the  rear  of  the  building 
flowed  a  brook  which  came  out  of  the  grove 
beyond  the  skipper's  land.  Twice  a  day  this 
brook  was  filled  by  the  sea,  which  seemed  to 
rebuke  the  noisy  but  scanty  stream  of  fresh 
water  rattling  along  the  nigh-empty  channel, 
and  silently  rolled  into  it  a  big,  dignified  volume 
of  cold  crystal  from  its  limitless  stores.  When 
the  skipper  wished  by  a  trial-trip  to  test  a  re- 
cently completed  craft,  he  could  quickly  roll  it 
from  the  boat-house  down  to  this  stream,  and  at 
high  tide  launch  it.  Opposite  the  dusty  win- 
dows of  the  boat-house,  on  the  other  side  of  the 
stream,  rose  the  farthest  trees  of  the  beautiful 
grove  of  pine,  here  staying  its  march  toward 
the  sea. 

"  It  comes  down  fur  enough,"  the  skipper 
had  said,  "  to  keep  off  the  nor'-west  wind. 
Makes  a  reg'lar  fence." 

A  beautiful  fence,  also,  in  whose  lee  the  wild 
flowers  bloomed  early,  the  birds  sang  raptur- 
ously, while  the  sun  laid  a  golden  carpet  on  the 
soft,  grassy  slope  where  Forrest  and  Nanny  in 
childhood  had  played  by  the  hour. 

The  skipper  was  at  his  bench  planing  cf  strip 


The  Tramp's  Disgrace.  77 

of  wood  when  he  heard  a  step  outside  the  door. 
"  That's  Forrest !  "  thought  the  skipper.  "  Wants 
to  talk  with  me  about  goin'  to  the  war,  I  expect. 
Folks  all  round  are  talkin'  it  over,  and  sayin' 
that  he  is  goin'." 

He  was  about  to  crj  aloud,  "  Come  in,  For- 
rest !  "  when  the  door  swung  back  and  there  was 
the  tramp.  The  caller  looked  about  the  shop  as 
if  to  make  sure  that  the  skipper  had  no  com- 
pany, and  then,  nodding  his  head  abruptly, 
walked  up  to  the  boat-builder's  bench. 

"  How-d'y-do  !  "  cried  the  skipper. 

There  was  a  contrast  between  the  tramp,  with 
his  abashed,  self-distrustful,  gloomy  look,  his 
disordered,  neglected,  seedy  dress,  and  the  skip- 
per, with  his  air  of  resoluteness,  self-reliance, 
hope,  while  his  dress,  thongh  that  of  toil,  was 
tidy,  and  showed  the  marks  of  Mirandy  Jane's 
faithful  needle.  One  man  was  like  a  vessel 
trim  and  staunch,  moored  to-day  in  a  good  liar, 
bor.  The  other  was  the  hulk  abandoned,  and 
drifting  ont  to  sea. 

Said  the  thing  adrift,  "  You  give  me  your 
opinion  % " 

"  Sartin— if  I  can.     What  is  it  ? " 

If  the  skipper  had  known  of  the  previous 
night's  drinking-bout  he  might  have  given  an 
opinion  of  the  nature  of  a  stirring  rebuke,  but 


78       Drummer- Boy  of  the  Rappahannock. 

lie  was  ignorant,  and  gave  his  attention  to  the 
case  in  hand. 

Chewing  an  oaken  cliip,  his  favorite  fashion 
when  meditating,  he  hstened  to  the  tramp. 

"What  would  you  saj  to  something  like  this : 
Supposing  you  had — well,  we  will  suppose — a — 
sister,  say — and  she  was  living,  well — somewhere 
on  the  coast,  and — you — you — " 

lie  stopped.  He  could  see  from  the  window 
near  him  a  fishing-boat  off  in  the  river  beyond 
the  marshes  and  struggling  toward  its  port. 
The  wind  was  ahead  and  the  boat  that  had 
hoisted  sail  was  trying  to  tack  up  the  river.  It 
went  this  way  and  then  that,  staggering  like  a 
drunken  man  every  turn  that  it  made  to  get  on 
another  tack.  Still  it  went  ahead.  The  man 
in  the  boat-shop  trying  to  make  out  a  statement 
was,  like  it,  struggling  with  difficulties.  It  was 
a  sailing  up-river  against  a  head  wind.  As  the 
boat  shot  forward,  so  he  would  make  progress. 
As  she  lagged  or  hesitated,  he  would  pause  and 
drop  behind.  Then  he  would  make  a  fresli 
start,  and  beat  forward  once  more. 

"  What  else  ? "  asked  the  skipper,  chewing  his 
chip  and  noticing  the  pause  of  the  tramp  as  he 
looked  riverward. 

"  O  ! "  exclaimed  this  lagging  vessel,  starting 
up  once  more.     "  Well,  supposing  j-ou  two  were 


The  Tramp's  Disgrace.  79 

separated — you  and  that  sister — jou  know — and 
you  went  away,  but  some  time  you — come  back. 
Well,  she  don't  know  you  ;  perhajDS  she's  young 
and  a-starting  out  and  has  friends  who  will  help 
her,  and  you  turn  up — you  know — but  nobody 
guesses  who  you  are  and  she  don't  know  you — 
and — you — just  make  a  mistake.  It's  a  bad  slip, 
you  know." 

He  said  "mistake,"  emphatically,  and  then 
paused,  his  eyes  fastened  steadily  on  the  boat  out 
in  the  river.  The  fishing  craft — had  it  also  made 
a  "  mistake  ? "  There  was  a  great  fluttering  of 
its  canvas,  a  violent  commotion.  ]^o,  it  was 
only  coming  round  on  the  other  tack,  and  once 
more  bore  away. 

"  Well !  "  said  the  skipper,  encouragingly, 
«  What  else ! " 

"  O  !  Well — you — make  a  mistake,  we'll  say. 
Shall  you  own  up  to  your  sister  who  you  are — 
tell  her,  you  know  ?  " 

"  Why,  of  course,  man !  Didn't  I  come  on 
for  that  very  thing,  we  'spose  ?  " 

"  But  the  mistake.  What  you  do ;  some- 
thing bad ! " 

"  O— yes  !  " 

"It  might  hurt  her,  disgrace  her — put  her 
back,  if  her  prospects  among  her  friends  were 
good — and — " 


80       Drummer-Boy  of  the  RfqypahannocJc. 

He  stopped. 

"There  she  goes,  round  on  the  other  tack!" 
he  said  in  a  low  tone. 

"  Who;  that  sister?"  inquired  the  skipper. 

"  No,  no  ;  I  was  w\^tcliing  that  boat." 

"  Well,  what  next,  friend  ?  You  are  some 
time  getting  into  harbor." 

The  skipper  chewed  his  chip  rather  impa- 
tiently. 

"  Wouldn't  it  be  better  for  3'ou,  under  those 
circumstances — those  circumstances,  mind  ye — 
when  by  staying  you  might  hurt  her  prospects 
—  wouldn't  it  be  better  for  you  to  clear  out  alto- 
gether? You  could  come  again,  you  know, 
when  you  had  behaved  yourself,  and  might 
fetch  her  something  handsome.  There  ;  she  is 
running  along  easily  !  " 

Yes,  the  wind  had  shifted  so  as  to  favor  the 
fishing-boat,  and  it  was  also  helpful  to  the  words 
of  the  tramp,  who  then  went  on  without  the  pre- 
vious hitches  in  speech. 

"  The  sister  runnin'  ? "  asked  the  skipper,  with 
a  puzzled  air. 

"  That  boat." 

"O,  yes;  I  see.  Well,  now  I've  got  the  case, 
if  you  M^ant  an  opinion,  I'll  try  to  give  it  about 
that  sister." 

The  skipper  picked  up  another  chip. 


The  Tramp's  Disgrace.  81 

"  If — if  I  liad  cut  up  so,  as  you  say,  and  my 
supposed  sister  didn't  know  it  was  me,  and  by 
tellin'  who  I  was  it  would  hurt  her,  and  I  could 
come  ag'in,  as  you  say,  in  creditable  fashion  and 
fetch  her  suthin'  han'sum,  I  think  I  sliould  go 
and  fetch.  It  wouldn't  hurt  her  feelin's  if  I 
should  clear  out,  you  see,  for  she  don't  know 
nuthin'  about  my  bein'  'round,  while  if  I  stay, 
and  let  on  who  I  am,  it  would  hurt  her  feelin's 
to  have  me  cuttin'  up  so,  and  might  sort  of  hurt 
her — her  standin'  among  her  friends.  Then  I 
could  come  again,  as  you  say ;  come  in  good  shape, 
fetch  suthin'  han'sum,  and  it  would  be  all  right. 
Plain  case ! " 

The  skipper  threw  down  the  unchewed  frag- 
ment of  his  last  chip,  took  up  his  phme,  and 
went  to  work  on  the  strip  of  partially  smoothed 
board. 

"  A  very  mysterious  case  of  yourn  !  "  said  the 
skipper,  elevating  one  end  of  the  board  to  his 
eye,  and  then  squinting  along  its  edge. 

The  tramp  said  nothing  for  a  moment,  and 
then  broke  out : 

"  It  seems  queer  that  people  should  keep  on 
making  mistakes.  When  do  you  think  we'll 
get  over  making  them  ?  " 

"l^ever!  Every  now  and  then  I  do  suthin' 
to  niyself  with  my  tools — don't  so  much  as  1 


82         Drummer- Boy  of  the  Rappahannock. 

used  to — but  it  seems  nat'ral  to  make  a  mistake 
somewhere.     I'll  tell  you  what,  friend  !  " 

The  skipper  looked  hard  at  the  tramp. 

"  What  is  it  ?  If  we  make  these  mistakes," 
said  the  tramp,  "  isn't  there  a  Power  somewhere 
that  will  overrule  them  ?  Why  does  he  let  us 
make  mistakes?" 

"  You  like  to  chew  on  them  subjects  ? "  replied 
the  skipper.  "  Lemme  give  you  a  piece  of  xvl"^ 
mind." 

The  skipper's  voice  sharpened.  He  had  an 
abrupt  way  of  turning  and  looking  at  people. 
It  was  not  any  thing  done  by  this  sincere  skip- 
per for  effect.  He  scorned  that ;  it  was  only  his 
habit,  but  it  gave  an  emphasis  to  his  words. 
What  he  said  now  was  not  on  account  of  the 
previous  night's  unseemly  festivity.  He  was 
still  ignorant  of  this.  He  spoke  his  mind  in 
view  of  what  the  tramp  was  reported  to  have 
said  at  the  forge  the  night  of  his  arrival. 

"I'll  tell  you,  friend,  what  I  consider  to  be  at  the 
bottom  of  the  most  of  the  mistakes  of  mankind, 
and  that  is— drink.  Git  that  rock  out  of  the 
channel,  and  most  voyages  would  be  smoother." 

The  tramp  dropped  his  head  and  sighed. 

"  j^ow  I  don't  believe  in  asking  God  to  take 
rocks  out  of  the  channel  if  we  have  sunk  'em 
there  ourselves.     IS^ow  I  don't  know  whose  mis- 


The  Tramp's  Disgrace.  83 

takes  yon  want  God  to  overrule,  but  if  you  have 
come  to  ask  advice  for  any  of  your  friends,  and 
they  have  helj3ed  put  rocks  in  the  channel,  they'd 
better  be  h'istin'  'em  up  themselves." 

Then  the  little  shop  was  very  still.  Just  the 
wind  could  be  heard,  muttering  under  the  door, 
saying  something  in  a  dismal  way  about  the 
return  of  the  storm,  and  this  mood  was  reflected 
in  the  sky,  which  had  drawn  an  ashy  veil  over 
its  face. 

"  Bad  weather  comin'  ag'in,"  said  the  skipper. 

"  I  must  be  goin',"  declared  the  tramp,  rais- 
ing his  head,  and  so  suddenly  that  his  hat  was 
thrown  off  and  the  scar  on  his  forehead  shown. 

"See  here!  You  got  a  pledge  here?"  he 
asked. 

"  No  ;  I  haven't  that  thing  in  the  shop,  though 
1  believe  in  it." 

"  Couldn't  you  make  me  one  ? " 

The  skipper  seized  a  piece  of  red  chalk.  On 
the  smooth  surface  of  a  closet-door  just  above 
his  bench,  he  chalked  down  the  short  but  pointed 
pledge : 

"  We  won't  drink  any  more," 

"  Hadn't  you  better  put  God  in  ? "  suggested 
the  tramp,  modestly. 

"Oyes!    <Sohelpus— '" 


84       Dvumrmer-Boy  of  the  Rappahannock. 

"  *  Our  Heavenly  Father,' "  said  the  tramp. 

The  tramp  chalked  underneath,  "  Old  Sol- 
dier." 

"  That  your  full  name  ?  "  asked  the  skipper. 

"Don't  want  to  put  my  name  there,  but  that 
will  hold.     Now  you  said  '  we.'  You  sign,  too." 

"  I  said  '  we '  ?  I  meant  to  say  '  I.'  I  will  set 
my  name  down  if  't  will  do  any  good.  I  have 
signed  lots  of  'em.    There  it  is, '  Jerry  Bowser.'  " 

"  You  said,  '  so  help  us.'     You  pray." 

"  I  can  do  the  chalkin',  not  the  prayin'.  You 
git  herP 

Tlie  skipper  pointed  at  ]N"anny  Frye,  who  was 
passing  a  window  on  her  way  to  Mirandy  Jane's. 
This  reference  suggested  something  else  to  the 
tramp. 

"  You  tell  her,"  he  said.  "  And  see  !  you  take 
this,  and  put  it  in  the  bank  for  her  and  that  boy, 
and  give  it  any  time  they  need  it." 

The  skipper  could  see  bank-bills  peeping 
through  the  broken  corners  of  a  package  in 
soiled  white  paper. 

"  I  saved  that  by  goin'  to  the  war,"  said  the 
tramp. 

The  skipper  shook  his  head. 

"  O  no !  I  don't  want  to  care  for  other  folks' 
money.     Put  it  in  yourself." 

Here  a  sweet   silvery  voice  at    the  opening 


Tlie  Tramp's  Disgrace.  85 

door  asked,  "  Isn't  your  wife  at  home  ?  I  can't 
find  her." 

"  I  guess  you'll  find  her  up-stairs  somewhere 
a-sortin'  rags.  She  can't  be  up  higher  than  the 
garret,  ]S"anny.  That  is  high  as  folks  can  git  in 
this  life." 

"  She  might  get  out  on  to  the  ridge-pole,"  said 
the  tramp,  softly,  and  unheard  by  the  others. 

"  Folks  can't  go  higher  than  the  garret  ? "  re- 
plied l^anny  to  Skipper  Bowser.  "Ah  !  there  is 
no  telling  how  high  folks  may  go, in  this  life  even." 

Then  Nanny  disappeared,  saying  in  her  heart, 
"]^ow  that  was  only  sentiment,  and  empty!  I 
thought  I  must  say  something." 

But  the  tramp  did  not  think  it  was  empty  sen- 
timent, lie  kept  repeating  it  to  himself  as  he 
moved  out  of  the  shop  into  the  yard,  and  then 
into  the  road.  A  few  minutes  later  the  skipper 
glanced  out  of  a  window  that  looked  up  the 
road,  and  saw  the  little  neighborhood  cemetery. 
On  the  crest  of  the  hill,  where  tliis  village  of 
the  dead  had  been  sleeping  for  years  in  the 
shadow  of  the  worn  memorial  stones,  was  Cap- 
tain Frye's  lot,  and  against  the  dark,  forbidding 
sky  rose  up  the  form  of  a  man. 

"  Looks  like  that  'ere  tramp,"  murmured  the 
skipper.  "  What's  he  want  there,  among  the 
Fryes  ?     Looks  homeless  and  homesick." 


86       Drummer- Boy  of  the  Rappahannock. 

It  was  all  that ;  this  one  solitary,  lonely  form, 
the  grave-yard  about  him,  the  gray,  gloomy  sky 
shutting  down  upon  him. 

"  There  he  goes  !  "  murmured  the  skipper. 

Yes,  the  black  form  was  slowly  creeping  out 
of  the  grave-yard. 

"The  most  mysteriousest  case,"  soliloquized 
the  skipper,  still  watching  that  receding  iigure. 
"  He  wonders  what  people  are  'lowed  to  make 
mistakes  for.  That  is  an  old,  old  puzzle. 
'Twill  take  a  lot  of  cipherin'  to  make  that  out." 

Yes  ;  an  old  question ;  very  old.  We  get  into 
sin,  and  then  wonder  why  we  ever  did  it,  and 
finally  ask  why  somebody  else — the  strongest, 
best  Power  in  the  universe — ever  permitted  it. 
The  figures  lengthen,  the  problem  grows  more 
intricate,  and  fortunate  are  we  if,  abandoning 
it,  we  do  not  repeat  the  very  error  that  started 
US  in  the  way  of  all  these  weary  mathematics. 


A  Mystery.  87 


CHAPTEE  y. 

A   MYSTERY. 

THE  next  morning,  George,  tlie  colored  man, 
came  slniiiling  excitedly  through  the  woods, 
and  declared  to  Skipper  Bowser,  down  by  the 
brook,  that  he  had  seen  light  at  midnight  in  the 
boat-shop. 

"A  light,  George?  You  must  have  been 
mistaken." 

George  reveled  in  the  strange,  the  ghostly, 
the  unnatural.  He  wildly  rolled  his  eyes  about, 
and  asserted, 

"Was  kin'  ob  uneasy,  an'  got  out  ob  my  bed 
an'  went  to  de  winder,  an'  saw,  a  iiashin'  up  in 
your  shop,  a  light.  O — a  light — a  flashin'  up  ! 
It  went  out  an'  she  come  ag'in — yeh — free 
times !  " 

"  O,  you  were  dreamin',  George." 

"  But  you  kent  dream  wid  yer  eyes — eyes 
open ! " 

"  Don't  know  about  that,  George.  Some  folks 
see  strange  things  by  daylight." 

The  skipper  would  have  seen  a  strange  thing 


88       Drummer- Boy  of  the  Rappahannock. 

by  matcbliglit  if  lie  liad  been  in  tbe  shop  at  tbe 
time  George's  eyes  were  so  suddenly  and  extrav- 
agantly dilated.  On  tbe  skipper's  work-bencb, 
kneeling  before  tbe  open  closet-door,  was  tbe 
tramp,  for  lie  bad  come  back. 

"Wanted  to  see  tbis  once  more,"  be  mur- 
mured. Tben  scratcbing  a  second  inatcb  be 
read  bastily : 

"We  won't  drink  any  more,  so  lielp  us  our 
Heavenly  Fatlier." 

Tbere  were  tbe  signatures  : 

"  Old  Soldier. 

"  Skipper  Bowser." 

Tbe  tramp  smiled.  For  tbe  moment  bis  feat- 
ures came  out  of  tbe  darkness,  and  were  ligbted 
up.  Tbe  scar  on  the  forebead  was  very  dis- 
tinct. Tbe  keen,  glistening  eyes,  tbe  parted 
lips,  tbe  nose  prominently  projecting,  all  were 
tbere.  It  was  not  an  inferior  manbood  tbus  re- 
vealed.    Tben  every  tiling  vanished. 

"  Want  to  see  it  once  more,"  be  murmured. 

Another  sharp,  hasty  illumination,  and  out  of 
tbe  dark  came  again  the  eyes,  mouth,  nose,  that 
complacent  grin,  too  ;  while  tbe  scar  on  the  fore- 
bead  was  more  ragged  than  ever. 

"  '  Old  Soldier ! ' ''  he  murmured.  "  That  looks 
good.  And  she  said  'there  is  no  telling  bow 
high  folks  may  go  in  tbis  life  even.'     Ila!  ha!" 


A  3fystery.  89 

The  match  was  soon  a  shriveled,  black  little 
ember.  Darkness  threw  its  veil  over  the  face 
of  the  tram]),  and  crawling  down  from  the 
bench  he  stole  out  of  the  shop  by  the  window 
through  which  he  had  entered.  He  was  soon 
away,  traveling  hurriedly,  the  sound  of  his  steps 
muffled  by  the  mud  in  the  road. 

The  skipper  never  could  keep  any  thing  from 
his  wife.  If  at  any  time  he  purposed  to  keep 
any  thing  from  all  the  world,  and  lock  the  secret 
up  in  his  bosom,  nevertheless  he  gave  a  key  to 
Mirandy  Jane.  He  now  told  her  all  about  the 
tramp,  and  about  the  money  which  the  latter 
offered  to  place  in  the  skipper's  care,  subse- 
quently to  be  given  up  to  Nanny  and  Forrest. 

"  I  thought  it  not  best  to  ketch  hold  of  that 
offer,  Mirandy." 

"  1^0,  no  !  No  tellin'  where  the  money  come 
from.  You  want  to  know  all  about  it.  Look 
out  for  a  man  a-trampin'  round  doin'  nothin' ! " 

"While  they  were  talking,  Forrest  entered. 

"Forrest,"  asked  the  skipper,  "how  would 
you  like  to  be  rich  some  time  ?  " 

Forrest  laughed,  and  replied,  "  Just  now  I'd 
rather  have  your  hand-saw  than  all  such  chances." 

"  That  what  you  come  over  to  borrow,  For- 
rest?" 

"That  is  it,  I  think." 


90       Drummer- Boy  of  the  Rappahannock. 

"  You  may  have  it.  Take  and  use  it  all  yon 
want  to." 

Forrest  went  out  into  the  boat-shop  to  find 
the  handsaw.  The  skipper  had  a  peculiar  way 
of  fastening  the  door;  a  way  that  effectually  puz- 
zled strangers,  but  no  mystery  to  Forrest.  He 
thrust  his  hand  into  a  hole,  and  pulled  on  a  hid- 
den string  that  raised  a  little  latch  on  the  inside. 
Entering  the  shop  Forrest  spied  the  window 
that  the  night-visitor  had  left  open. 

"Ah!  skipper  didn't  shut  his  windows,"  re- 
marked Forrest.     "  And  what  is  that  ? " 

He  saw  a  package  in  a  soiled  cover.  Open- 
ing it  he  found  a  nice  little  pile  of  bank-bills. 

"Yes;  and  this  slip  of  paper  near  it,"  he 
murmured. 

On  the  paper  was  a  roughly  penciled  message, 
which  Forrest  carelessly  glanced  at:  "I  want 
you  to  put  this  money  in  the  bank  for  those 
young  people  ;  and  on  another  piece  of  paper  I 
put  my  address,  and  if  you  want  my  name, 
write  to  that  address  and  it  will  be  given 
you." 

But  where  was  the  other  piece  of  paper? 
Forrest  could  not  find  it  on  the  bench,  or  below 
it,  or  anywhere  else. 

"  Queer ! "  exclaimed  Forrest.  He  searched, 
but  could  not  find.      Conscious  that  a  stronoj 


A  Mystery.  91 

draft  of  air  was  setting  tlirongli  the  window, 
Forrest  turned  and  saw  that  he  had  left  tlie 
door  of  the  shop  open.  A  sudden  gust  aroused 
him  to  the  necessity  of  promptly  closing  the 
door.  The  wind  strengthened.  It  became  a 
violent  charge.  When  Forrest  closed  the  door, 
he  was  obliged  to  make  quite  an  effort.  Eeturn- 
ing  to  the  bench  where  he  had  been  standing  he 
could  find  neither  slip  nor  bank-bills. 

"Queer!"  he  said.  "Real  queer!  Where 
have  they  gone?     That's  strange." 

Yes,  very;  but  Forrest  could  not  solve  the 
mystery  of  that  disappearance.  He  looked  and 
looked  every-where,  except  in  the  right  places. 
One  of  these  was  a  hole  near  the  window-ledge. 
The  wind  was  hustling  away  the  package  of 
bank-bills  and  the  single  slip  of  paper.  When 
this  hole  was  reached  the  bank-bills  tumbled 
down  into  it.  The  slip  being  lighter  was  swept 
still  farther,  and  blown  out  of  the  window. 

"Whew!"  declared  Forrest.  "This  is  a 
scrape  !  Wonder  whose  money  it  was.  O  dear ! 
must  I  tell  the  skipper  1 " 

Certainly.  And  his  better  nature  advised  im- 
mediate telling.  Stepping  outside  the  shop,  he 
caught  the  sound  of  carriage-wheels.  Looking 
up  he  saw  that  the  skipper  and  his  wife  were 
going  to  market. 


92        Drummer-Boy  of  the  Puippahannock. 

"  I  had  better  tell  him  now,"  said  Forrest, 
starting  off  on  a  run.     "  What  a  scrape  !  " 

He  raised  his  voice  and  shouted : 

''  Skip — per  Bowser  !  " 

But  for  some  reason,  at  that  time,  the  skipper 
saw  fit  to  be  bawling  at  his  old  horse,  and  the 
wind  thought  fit  to  rush  at  Forrest  and  attempt  to 
blow  his  voice  out  to  sea.  None  of  it  certainly 
reached  the  skipper,  or,  if  it  did,  he  confused 
it  with  the  notes  of  another  kind  of  being  in  an 
adjacent  field. 

"  Seems  to  me  them  calves  make  a  lot  of  noise 
to-day,  Mirandy  Jane,"  he  observed  to  his  wife. 

"  They  make  a  horrid  noise,"  replied  his  wife. 

"  Well,"  thought  the  unsuccessful  Forrest,  "  I 
can  do  this  :  cut  across  this  pasture,  and  head 
him  off." 

He  got  along  very  well  until  he  reached  a 
four-barred  fence. 

"  I'll  leap  this,"  declared  Forrest,  noticing  that 
the  skipper's  horse  was  making  excellent  time. 
He  got  along  very  well  in  that  jump  until  lie 
reached  the  top  rail.  Here  one  of  his  feet  struck 
the  rail,  and  over  he  went,  and  down  he  came  in 
a  heap. 

"  Disgusting  !  "  cried  Forrest.  "  And  I  have 
sprained  my  foot !  I'll  give  it  up,  and  see  the 
skipper  when  he  gets  back." 


A  Mystery.  93 

This  ended  the  chase  after  the  market-partj. 
He  went  home  thinking.  It  was  not  a  com- 
fortable thinking.  He  shrugged  his  shoulders. 
He  scowled.     He  shook  his  head. 

"  Don't  understand  the  meaning  of  the  thing 
on  the  slip,"  he  murmured.  "  And  that  money  ! 
Was  it  the  skipper's?  O  dear!  Of  course  it 
was !  Don't  I  wish  I  had  never  gone  after 
that  old  handsaw!  Wonder  where  the  bills 
went,  and  what,  too,  became  of  that  piece  of 
paper !  I  looked  everj-where  for  that  slip,  and 
the  bills,  too.     I  looked  outside  and  in." 

He  did  look  outside,  but  not  far  enough.  A 
mischievous  outside  wind,  one  that  searches 
every-where,  and  notices  every  thing,  had  found 
the  missing  slip,  had  puffed  at  it  playfully,  and 
then  given  it  a  vigorous  push,  a  second,  a  third. 
Whirling  over  and  over,  the  slip  finally  caught 
in  a  depression  in  the  bank  of  the  stream,  and 
there  lodged.  The  tide  was  coming  in  from  the 
sea,  and  the  water  steadily  deepened  in  the 
brook.     There    came  a  visitor  at  that  time. 

"Why,  look!"  cried  Nanny,  to  herself, 
chancing  to  visit  the  place  on  her  way  to  dis- 
charge an  errand  at  Mrs.  Bowser's.  "  See  that 
paper  which  the  water  almost  touches — and  will 
touch,  next  thing!  Yes,  the  water  lifts  it,  almost 
cai-ries  it  off — will  do  it,  the  next  time  !  " 


94        Drummer-Boy  of  the  Rappahannock. 

The  next  moment  there  was  a  stronger  pulse 
of  the  stream,  a  more  forcible  detachment  of  the 
paper,  and  off  it  went. 

"  Ha !  ha ! "  laughed  Nanny,  when  she  saw 
this  feat  of  the  tide.  "  The  paper  has  gone  on  a 
voyage — ha !  ha  !  "  She  would  not  have  laughed 
about  the  little  craft  if  she  had  known  its  char- 
acter. 

This  vessel  was  swept  to  and  fro  as  the  tide 
impelled  it,  but  how  much  trouble  would  have 
been  saved  to  Forrest  Hooper  and  others  if 
she  had  arrested  its  course,  if  she  had  brought 
it  ashore,  if  she  had  opened  and  examined  the 
paper  vessel !  ISTo,  she  left  it  to  its  fate,  and 
the  tide  took  possession  of  and  determined  its 
destinies.  Backward  and  forward,  idly  swept 
this  paper  voyager,  nobody  caring,  hardly  any 
one  heeding.  The  tide  came  and  went,  care- 
lessly, persistently,  without  rest  or  mercy,  and 
did  what  it  pleased  with  the  nnresisting  paper. 
If  somebody  had  only  picked  it  up  and  read 
it! 

The  bit  that  was  its  companion,  containing  a 
nmch  needed  address,  was  to  be  found  some  day, 
but  not  that  day. 

When  Nanny  returned  home,  after  an  unsuc- 
cessful effort  to  find  Mrs.  Bowser,  she  was  met 
by  Forrest  at  the  door. 


A  3fystery.  95 

.  Such  a  dejected  look  as  he  wore ! 

"Why,  Forrest,  what  is  the  matter!"  asked 
Nanny, 

"  Nanny,  I  am  in  a  scrape,"  said  the  wretched 
being. 

"  How  so  1     Tell  us  about  it." 

That  comforted  Forrest.  Somehow  Nanny's 
silver-voiced  invitation  to  tell  his  story  helped 
him  at  once. 

"  There,  poor  boy  " — this  comforted  him  still 
more — "  tell  your  grandmother  all  about  it." 

Forrest  was  now  laughing.  He  stood  up  be- 
fore the  stove,  thrust  his  hands  down  into  his 
pockets,  and  began : 

*'  Well,  Nanny,  I  don't  know  but  what  I  have 
been  the  means  of  losing  the  skipper  an  awful 
pile  of  money — " 

Nanny  said  nothing,  but  she  gave  a  start,  and 
her  eyes  lengthened  and  widened  as  if  they  would 
make  a  big  round  O !  It  was  more  effective 
than  if  she  had  said  it  even,  and  Forrest  noticed 
it. 

"  Too  bad,  Nan,  too  bad !  I  feel  all  cut  up 
about  it," 

Nanny  recovered  herself;  "Poor  fellow!" 
she  murmured. 

Helped  again,  Forrest  resumed  his  confession. 

"  You  see,  I  went  into  the  skipper's  shop  this 
7 


96      Drummer-Boy  of  the  Rappahannock. 

morning  and  saw  some  bank-bills  lie  left  on  his 
bench — sort  of  done  up  in  a  piece  of  paper 
and  a  slip  of  paper  near  it — and  while  I  was 
looking — the  window  was  open  and  the  door  too, 
you  know — what  should  happen  but  a  great  wind 
came  along  and  just  took — O,  it  was  a  tremen- 
dous draught — 'bout  took  me  off  my  feet — ha ! 
ha—" 

He  was  trying  to  give  a  comical  turn  to  his 
narrative,  which  was  a  method  sometimes  inter- 
esting and  amusing  to  Kanny.  It  did  not  relieve 
the  soberness  of  her  thoughts  now,  and  Forrest, 
who'  sharply  noticed  every  turn  of  expression, 
saw  it,  and  at  once  was  as  sober  as  she. 

"  Well,  Nanny,  when  I  came  back  to  the  bench 
every  thing  was  gone,  bills,  paper,  every  thing ! 
I  looked  all  'round,  out-doors,  in-doors,  and  not 
a  sign  of  the  skipper's  money  could  I  see !  It 
went,  and  every  bit  of  paper  with  it." 

•'How  much  do  you  suppose  it  was?"  said 
Nanny,  in  a  hollow  tone  of  voice,  and  she  said 
it  abstractedl^y,  as  if  her  thoughts  were  in  part 
on  another  subject.  She  was  wondering  if  her 
savings  in  a  certain  bank  would  offset  the  skip- 
per's loss. 

"  O,  Nan,"  answered  Forrest,  his  voice  sink- 
ing till  it  was  lugubrious  as  hers.  "  I  don't  know. 
I  saw  the  top  bill,  and  I  know  it  was  good  for 


A  Mystery.  97 

ten  dollars,  and  it  was  on  a  bank  in  Drew- 
ville." 

"  Do  you  suppose  they  were  all  ten  dollar 
bills?" 

"  Awful  if  they  were,  Nan ;  but  I  don't 
know." 

"  How  thick  was  the  heap  ?  " 

"  O,  I  couldn't  say.     Perhaps  so  —  thick." 

"  And  all  tens  ? "  they  both  said,  in  their 
thoughts. 

"  Have  you  told  the  skipper  ? "  she  asked. 

"  Wliy,  no  !  That  is  the  rub  of  it.  If  I  could 
have  got  hold  of  him  and  told  him  I  should  have 
felt  bettor,  but  what  did  he  and  Mirandy  do  but 
go  to  market !  Well,  I  chased  them,  and  tried 
to  jump  a  fence — and — and — " 

He  saw  a  smile  twinkling  in  ]N"anny's  eyes, 
and  light  flashed  out  of  his  own  at  once.  He 
appreciated  liis  opportunity.  It  was  coming 
closer.     She  was  smiling  more  and  more. 

"  And  sure  as  you're  a  born  Frye,  T^an,  if  I 
didn't  go  sprawling  over  that  top  rail — ha !  ha  ! 
ha!" 

Ev^ry  thing  went  here — Iran's  soberness,  For- 
rest's anxiety — and  into  a  loud,  merry,  ringing 
laugli  they  both  burst.  O,  it  was  a  brave,  cheery 
laugli,  there  in  the  old  kitchen,  where  poverty, 
debt,  and  anxiety  confronted  both,  while  Forrest 


98      Drummer-Boy  of  the  Rappahannock. 

was  facing  sliame  and  disgrace,  possibly.  It  was 
yontli,  then  as  now,  overflowing  in  its  resources 
of  vitality,  vivacity,  and  audacity,  in  its  igno- 
rance confident,  and  in  its  confidence  willing  to 
stay  ignorant.  Youth  then,  like  youth  to-day, 
that  says  the  night  is  short,  and  that  morn  will 
soon  come,  that  welcomes  the  battle,  burns  to  be 
in  the  forlorn  hope,  sees  only  victory,  and  if 
there  be  one  glimpse  of  death,  cries,  "Let  us 
die!  Immortality  is  on  the  other  side."  There 
are  some  old  people  who  still  have  this  spirit 
and  therefore  are  young.  They  drink  of  the 
waters  of  fadeless  youth. 

In  the  old  Frye  kitcQien  there  was  youth  defy- 
ing the  rugged  steep  and  the  storm  and  the 
night,  saying  it  would  laugh,  and  be  happy,  and 
conquer  all  obstacles  some  time. 

They  laughed  till  the  tears  shone  in  Nanny's 
eyes,  and  Forrest  thought, 

"  How  handsome  her  eyes  are  !  " 

And  Nanny  ;  what  did  she  do  ? 

Gradually  she  grew  quiet. 

The  luster,  though,  was  in  lier  eyes,  and  in 
her  voice  were  hope  and  courage.  Another 
element  came  into  that  voice.  She  said  in  her 
most  sympathetic  tones : 

"  Don't  you  worry,  Forrest ;  we  will  stand  by 
you  and  help  you." 


A  Mysitry.  99 

That  multiplied  Forrest's  resources  wonder- 
fully. He  felt  as  if  a  big  world  were  on  his 
side.  His  enemies  might  be  numerous ;  he  was 
strong  and  he  would  defy  them  all. 

An  hour  later  he  saw  Skipper  Bowser  and 
his  wife  coming  down  the  road  in  their  old  red 
wagon.  They  were  behind  the  same  horse  that 
seemed  to  Forrest  almost  vicious  in  its  speed  that 
morning,  but,  tired  out  by  a  long  pull,  it  went 
sheepishly  enough  now. 

"  My  time  has  come ! "  groaned  Forrest,  in- 
wardly. "  I  suppose  I  must  go  and  see  the  skip- 
per." 

He  called  out,  "  Think  of  me,  Nan  !  I'm  go- 
ing to  see  the  skipper  now." 

"  Good  luck,  Forrest." 

He  went  out  of  the  house  slowly  but  deliber- 
ately. He  sauntered  down  through  the  yard. 
He  went  out  into  the  road  slowly  still,  yet  stead- 
ily on. 

"He  doesn't  want  to  go,"  thought  J^ann}'-, 
who  knew  all  his  movements  and  watched  them 
now  from  the  window.  "  And  yet  he  is  going. 
I  suppose  that's  the  way  he  might  go  into  bat- 
tle, not  wanting  to,  and  yet  resolutely,  beating 
his—" 

She  paused.  She  did  not  want  to  say  "  drum." 
Then  she  exclaimed,  "  Nonsense !  "  and,  turning 


100       Drummer-Boy  of  the  Fuippahannock. 

round,  she  seized  a  broom  and  flourislied  it  in  the 
most  vigorous  way,  sweeping  in  unnecessary 
places  and  an  unnecessary  number  of  times, 
driving  the  dust  before  lier  energetically — as  if  it 
were  tlie  whole  Confederate  army.  She  could 
not  accustom  herself  to  the  idea  of  Forrest's  go- 
ing to  the  war. 

But  Forrest  was  not  going  to  war  just  now. 
He  was  attempting  something  harder ;  he  was 
going  to  see  Skipper  Bowser  and  tell  him  that 
Forrest  IIooj)er  had  lost  an  untold  amount  of 
money  belonging  to  the  skipper.  Forrest  went 
over  the  route  of  the  morning,  crossing  the  same 
field ;  and  how  easily  he  now  cleared  that  four- 
railed  fence  ! 

"  I  would  like  to  make  the  skipper's  old  horse 
jumjD  that  fence  !  "  said  Forrest,  savagely.  "  He 
would  know  how  good  it  was,  and  would  hold 
on  when  folks  wanted  him  to  stop.  Ah,  there 
is  the  skipper  !  " 

The  skipper  was  leading  his  "  Old  Billy " 
into  the  stable,  and  Forrest — followed  him 
promptly  ?  No,  he  was  glad  to  linger  outside, 
and  draw  from  the  well  for  Mrs.  Bowser  a 
bucket  of  the  sweetest,  coolest,  most  crystal 
water  in  the  world.  He  drank,  too,  several 
times.  Then  he  went  to  the  stable-door  and 
hesitated  on  tlie  threshold.     He  stooped  to  pick 


A  3Tystery.  101 

up  and  then  masticated  a  piece  of  barley-straw. 
Finally,  wishing  lie  was  down  at  tlie  war,  where 
you  can't  get  this  fugitive,  troublesome  money 
so  easily,  he  entered  the  stable.  Skipper  Bowser 
was  in  the  depths  of  a  dusky  stall  combing  Old 
Billy's  hide,  which,  after  the  winter,  was  quite 
furry. 

"  Stand  still,  I  ax  ye  !  "  he  was  shouting.  Then 
came  something  sounding  like  an  emphatic  love- 
pat  administered  with  the  back  of  the  currycomb. 

Forrest  groped  his  way  round  to  the  back  of 
the  stall. 

"  I  might  as  well  begin  now  as  any  time,"  he 
said,  coughing  out  of  his  throat  several  lumps 
that  had  developed  there  suddenly. 

"  Skipper ! "  he  said,  feebly. 

"Stand  still,  I  ax  ye,"  the  master  of  Old 
Billy  was  shouting. 

"  Skipper  !  "  Forrest  began  again. 

"  O,  that  you,  Forrest  ?  This  critter  is  bother- 
in'  me.  I  want  to  make  him  look  handsome 
enough  to  go  before  the  king,  and  he's  got  the 
oddest  fit ;  acts  like  a  cow  milkin'-time." 

This  last  derogatory  remark  seemed  to  have  a 
quieting  effec'  on  Old  Billy,  for  he  ceased  his 
capers  and  acted  like  any  other  being  that  is 
ashamed. 

"  Skipper,  I  —I  am  dreadful  sorry,  but  I  am 


102       Drummer-Boy  of  the  Riqj2^a]Lannock. 

afraid — I  have  lost  some  money  for  you — " 
Forrest  was  saying ;  but  the  skipper  interrupted 
liim. 

"Lost  for  me?  "  inquired  the  skipper,  raising 
the  curry-comb  in  wonder,  and  looking  aston- 
ished across  the  furry  back  of  Old  Billy.  "  1 
haven't  lost  any  money  that  I  know  of." 

"  Haven't  missed  any  ?  " 

"  IS'ot  yet !     Pickt  up  some,  have  ye  ?  " 

"Well,  Skipper,  it  was  this,  way — and  I'm 
dreadful  sorry,  but  I  will  make  it  u]>,  every  cent 
—and  if  I  go  to  war  you  shall  have  every  cent 
of  my  pay." 

"O  we  won't  talk  about  that,"  said  the  skip- 
per, "  and  I  don't  know,  any  way,  what  you 
mean." 

"  Well,  Skipper,  it  was  this  way." 

Here  Forrest  began  to  detail  the  finding  of 
the  bank-bills  and  their  subsequent  disappear- 
ance. As  he  proceeded  in  his  story  the  skipper 
gradually  retreated  from  the  stall,  beating  the 
brush  against  the  currj'-comb,  and  finally  stood 
out  in  the  open  space  between  the  hay-mows, 
listening  in  wonder  to  Forrest's  story. 

"Don't  know  a  thing  about  it,"  he  cried. 
"  Haven't  left  a  cent  there  !  You  saw  something 
on  a  paper  about  d(?positing  some  money,  and 
somethins:  about  an  address  ? " 


A  Mystery.  103 

"  Why,  yes,  sir,  but  I  didn't  read  it  carefully, 
for  I  thought  it  was  none  of  my  business." 

"  I'm  sure  I  don't  know  nothin'  about  it." 

"  Then  it — it — wasn't  none  of  your  money  ? " 

"  Why,  sartin  not." 

From  Forrest's  back  seemed  to  have  rolled  a 
mountain !  It  sank,  too,  into  a  sea  of  such  exceed- 
ing^ depth  !  He  felt  that  he  must  go  home  at  once 
to  tell  Kanny,  making  even  better  time  than 
when  he  started  to  chase  Old  Billy  in  the  morn- 
ing, for  he  cleared  easily  the  four-barred  fence. 
With  a  bound  and  a  shout  he  entered  the  old 
Frye  home,  calling,  "Hullo!  Nanny,  hullo!" 
He  found  and  told  her ;  and  also  from  her  back 
rolled  a  mountain. 

"  O  I'm  so  relieved,  Forrest,"  she  cried. 

She  had  been  thinking  whether  she  had  better 
not  "  go  out  washing  "  to  earn  money  enough  to 
make  good  the  skipper's  loss. 

One  back,  though,  took  on  a  load,  not  of  wor- 
riment,  but  wonder,  and  that  was  the  back  of 
Skipper  Bowser. 

"  George  says  he  saw  a  light  in  my  shop 
a-liashin'  up  all  of  a  sudden,  and  then  it  was 
gone,"  he  reflected.  "  I  s'pose  that  was  when  I 
was  out  in  the  shop  with  the  lantern — went  out 
rather  late — and  that  big-eyed  darkey  saw 
it.     Whew !      Wouldn't  it  be  a  scrape  if  the 


104       Drummer-Boy  of  the  Rappahannock. 

owner  of  tlie  money  should  come  and  demand 
it?" 

Then  the  skipper's  fancies  changed  abruptly. 
He  began  to  question  whether  the  money  so 
mysteriously  appearing  to  lorrest  and  so  ab- 
ruptly disappearing  might  not  yet  be  in  the 
shop. 

He  hunted  and  Forrest  hunted,  sifting  shav- 
ing-heaps, looking  on  top  of  shelves,  hunting 
among  the  strips  of  boards  piled  on  the  beams 
overhead,  for  the  skipper  said,  "  Wind  might 
liave  taken  her  anywhere !  " 

All  this  time  the  money  was  hiding  at  the 
foot  of  a  sheathed  wall  back  of  the  skipper's 
bench.  Only  the  thickness  of  a  board  between 
the  money  and  the  eagerly-searching  hands  of 
Forrest  and  the  skipper!  The  only  thing  of 
paper  touched  by  any  of  those  hands  was  a  slip 
found  by  the  skipper,  and  simply  saying,  "  Send 
to  Grand  Street,  New  York,  No. ." 

That  was  all. 

The  skipper  started  to  throw  it  out  of  doors, 
but  refrained. 

"Guess  I'll  stick  it  on  this  shelf;  maybe 
suthin'  I  want  myself,"  concluded  the  skippei-, 
laying  it  on  a  shelf  back  of  his  bench.  "  I'll  put 
\i— there:' 

Lucky  he  did. 


A  Beating  Drum,  105 


CHAPTER  yi. 

A     BEATING     DRUM. 

SINGULAR  liow  differently  two  windows 
affected  Nanny. 

"Rub-a-dub!     Rub-a-dub!" 

Tliat  was  wliat  Nanny  lieard  at  one  open  win- 
dow ;  a  resonant,  echoing  rattle  of  drum-sticks  in 
tlie  hands  of  Forrest. 

"  I  don't  want  to  hear  you  ! "  she  exclaimed. 
*' You  make  me  nervous;  you  get  me  out  of 
sorts  ;  I'll  shut  you  down." 

Down  came  the  window. 

On  the  opposite  side  of  the  room  was  another 
window,  and  it  was  open. 

"  Hark  ! "  said  Nanny. 

"Ding!     Ding!     Ding!" 

A  church-bell  was  gently  swinging,  off  in  the 
distance,  and  through  the  window  stole  its 
hushed,  musical  echoes. 

"  That  helps  me.  That  quiets  me  !  "  thought 
Nanny,  as  she  stood  at  the  window.  "I  love 
that  little  church." 

Yery  little  was  it,  but  it  had  a  great  influence 
os^er  her. 


106     Drummer- Boy  of  the  Rappahannock. 

It  smoothed  away  the  wrinkles  of  worriiiient 
in  her  face  and  brought  out  a  look  of  rest.  It 
was  doing  the  same  thing,  in  many  ways,  often 
in  her  life.  Sometimes  the  shepherd  of  the 
flock  in  that  communitj^  would  conie  to  the 
church  and  gather  his  own  for  a  little  season  of 
prayer  by  day,  and  the  bell  was  ringing  a  warn- 
ing for  her.  The  church  was  isolated  in  its  posi- 
tion. A  cemetery  adjoined  it.  This  cemetery 
climbed  the  rise  of  ground  beyond  the  church. 
It  seemed  as  if  the  church  ought  to  have  been  on 
the  little  rise,  looking  down  npon  and  watching 
over  the  resting  dead.  Then  the  church  might 
have  been  nearer  also  to  the  homes  of  men. 

"  Too  far  to  go  to,"  said  the  yawning  Gilbert 
French,  Sunday  morning.  "I  can't  get  there. 
Feeble.     They  must  bring  the  church  nearer." 

JSIanny  did  not  feel  that  way. 

"Now,  I  like,"  she  said,  "to  have  the  church 
where  it  is,  where  just  the  birds  and  the  trees 
and  the  graves  are.  Seems  like  something  to 
retire  to,  a  place  away  from  my  daily  cares  and 
daily  thoughts,  and  I  can  go  to  it  and  rest  there. 
I  don't  sympathize  with  what  they  say  Gilbert 
French  believes  in,  a  church  so  near  he  can  step 
into  it." 

Deep  down  in  her  heart  there  was  a  devoutness 
in  harmony  with  that  now  softly  echoing  bell. 


A  BeatliKj  Drum.  107 

"I  will  go  over  to  Mrs.  Bowser's  and  see  if 
she's  going  to  any  of  the  services  to-da}^,"  said 
Nanny. 

She  found  Mrs.  Bowser  in  tlie  little  house 
where  those  two  worthy  souls,  Jeremiah  and 
Miranda  Bowser,  had  lived  over  a  quarter  of  a 
century. 

"  I  am  glad  to  see  you,  Xanny.  It  was  begin- 
niu'  to  feel  lonesome,"  said  a  woman  of  lifty-iive 
years  of  age,  looking  up  through  her  spectacles. 

"Lonesome!"  said  Nanny  Frye,  vigorously. 
"Xast  place  in  the  world  that  seems  lonesome 
to  me." 

Here  Nanny  looked  about  her.  It  was  a  di- 
minutive spot,  and  only  a  kitchen,  and  yet  it 
had  an  indescribable  air  of  cosiness  and  comfort. 
Out  of  the  resources  of  long-continued  house- 
keeping came  the  little  patches  of  home-made 
carpeting  covering  up  bareness,  and  those  little 
devices — like  a  cushion  in  a  chair — taking  away 
hardness. 

"  We  seem  to  be  purty  much  by  ourselves, 
Jerry  and  me,  down  here,"  remarked  Mrs.  Bow- 
ser.    "  A  leetle  too  much  at  one  side." 

"  Yes — "  said  Nanny,  in  a  tone  of  assent,  and 
yet  suspending  her  voice  as  if  something  unsaid 
might  be  added  on  the  other  side  of  the  argument. 

On  the  north  side  of  the  kitchen  was  a  single 


108     Driimnier-Boy  of  the  Ilappahaniiock. 

window.  From  it  conld  be  seen  three  build- 
ings, strung  on  the  line  of  the  country  road  soon 
lost  in  the  cool  surrounding  depths  of  the  green 
forest.  Of  these  tliree  buildings  one  was  Nan- 
ny's home ;  a  second  was  the  blacksmith-shop, 
whose  anvil  was  daily  smitten  by  Nanny's  father, 
Captain  Frye ;  a  third  was  the  little  church 
near  the  cemetery.  After  a  while  one  reached 
the  small  settlement  at  the  "  corners."  It  was 
limited,  but  the  world  in  that  direction  did 
have  some  size.  But  when  Miranda  Bowser 
looked  out  of  the  windows  in  the  southern  wall 
of  the  little  kitchen,  where  had  the  world  gone? 
If  it  had  ever  been  thei-e  at  all,  it  now  certainly 
liad  disappeared,  leaving  behind  a  narrow  lane, 
some  leafless  apple-trees,  and  beyond  these  a 
creek  bordered  in  summer  with  green  marsh- 
grass. 

Ordinarily  this  creek  ran  into  Deep  River, 
that  with  much  boldness  twice  a  day  charged 
down  from  the  "  Port "  upon  the  ocean,  carry- 
ing with  it  every  possible  re- enforcement  of 
water  from  creek  and  ditch,  and  then  twice  a 
day  retreated,  in  horror  running  back  to  the 
hills,  all  its  allies  gurgling  back  into  their  old, 
muddy  channels.  Ordinarilj'^,  beyond  the  mouth 
of  Deep  River  was  as  blue  an  ocean  as  can  be 
found    anywhere   this  side  of   Italy.      To-day, 


A  Beating  Drum.  109 

though,  there  was  a  curtain  of  pjraj  fog  across 
that  blue  ocean,  completely  hiding  it ;  across  the 
mouth  of  the  creek  too,  hiding  Deep  River. 

Nanny  did  not  care.  It  only  increased  the 
feeling  of  seclusion.  This  hour  was  a  kind  of 
porch  to  the  quiet  hour  of  prayer  at  the  church. 
Mrs.  Bowser  promised  to  go  with  Nanny,  and 
then  the  conversation  changed  to  another  sub- 
ject. 

"I  don't  see.  Aunt  Miranda,  what  makes  you 
so  quiet  and  self-controlled  all  the  time." 

"  Do  you  think  so  ? " 

"Think!     I  know!" 

"  You  don't  know  what  is  goin'  on  inside, 
dear.     That  makes  up  for  any  thing  outside." 

Aunt  Miranda  had,  indeed,  a  very  placid  face  ; 
but  while  every  body  saw  that,  they  could  not 
look  within  and  know  how  hard  sometimes  was 
self-control. 

"Well,  whatev^er  it  is  you  hav^e  got,  I  wish  I 
had  it.  I  am  so  emotional  and  nervous  !  I  speak 
quick  and  act  quick.  Ten  minutes  after,  and 
less  time,  when  I  think  it  all  over  I  am  so  sorry 
that  I  did  not  have  better  control  of  myself ! " 

Mrs.  Bowser  did  not  say  any  thing,  and  ISTanny 
went  on. 

"  Now,  lately,  I  have  broken  out,  as  I  call  it, 
and  am   sorry  for   it.      I  did  so  to  the  tramp 


110      Druniiner-Boy  of  tJie  Rxppahannock. 

when  lie  was  here.  Then  Forrest  stirs  me  when- 
ever he  talks  about  going  to  the  war,  and,  if 
yoirll  beheve  it,  Aunt  Bowser,  I  did  'break 
out'  to  the  window  this  morning!  " 

Here  Nanny  let  out  one  of  her  bird-like 
laughs,  that  went  softly  flying  about  the  room 
as  if  it  had  very  downv  wino-s. 

"I  heard  his  drum  at  the  window,  and  I 
couldn't  stand  tliat.  Now  I  know.  Aunt  Bow- 
ser, you  don't  break  out  that  way.  You  don't 
fly  at  windows  and  things  and  people.  You 
keep  your  feelings  down,  and  your  feelings 
in.  And  1  think  it  is  one  of  the  greatest 
possessions  that  can  come  to  one,  just  to — just 
to — possess  himself;  hold  himself  in  control. 
O,  I  think  it  is  grand  to  see  one  whom  people 
rush  at  and  attack,  and  stir  up,  and  all  the  while 
he  is  calm  and  collected,  and  shows  he  is  the 
grand  master.  That  is  splendid  !  I  can  almost 
worship  such  a  character." 

Here  Mrs.  Bowser  said  softly,  "  '  Who,  when 
He  was  reviled,  reviled  not  again,' " 

"  Yes,  yes ;  I  remember  him.  "We  can,  we 
do  worship  him." 

"  Well,  dear,  I  don't  know  what  to  say.  I 
don't  think  we  can  succeed  unless  we  catch  his 
spirit,  and  try  to  live  near  him,  and  live  like 
him,  and  live  in  him.      I  don't  want  you    to 


A  BeatiiKj  Dnint.  Ill 

tliink  I  have  had  good  success,  for  I  sometimes 
feel  as  if  it  was  the  ocean  inside  uie  tliat  is  toss- 
in'  and  heavin'.     IS'o,  no  !" 

Here  Mrs.  Bowser  siglied. 

"Ever  since  tlie  morning  Huldali  went 
awaj — " 

"AuntHuldah?" 

"Yes,  your  father's  sister,  who — " 

"O  dear!  I  have  sometimes  thouglit  what  would 
happen  if  Aunt  Iluldah  should  come  back ! " 

"  O,  I  guess  she  won't !  " 

"  But  she  has  an  interest  in  the  house.  She 
has  a  right  to  live  in  two  of  the  rooms.  Father 
can't  sell  the  house  without  her  consent.  I  have 
heard  him  say  that  to  that  vulture  Gilbert  French, 
when  he  has  wanted  to  take  the  house  off  father's 
hands." 

"  O,  she  won't  come  back.  Well ;  it  was  the 
mornin'  she  went  off,  I  was  agoin'  to  say,  and  I 
met  her,  and  asked  her  when  she'd  be  back,  and, 
sez  she, '  When  I  do  you'll  know  it.  You'll  find  a 
chalk-mark  on  your  door.'  I  laffcd,  and,  sez  I, 
"  You  needn't  leave  it.'  The  laff— it  was  thought- 
less in  me — seemed  to  stir  her  up,  and  then  she 
stirred  me,  and — well,  I  won't  go  into  perticku- 
lers,  only  I  was  surprised  to  find  what  was  in 
me,  and — and — I  am  sorry  to  say  it — it  came  out 
—and—" 


112     Drummer-Boy  of  the  Rappahannock. 

"  Now,  Aunt  Miranda,  I  don't  doubt  but  that 
she  was  to  blame." 

Mrs.  Bowser  shook  her  head. 

"  N"o,  no,  Nanny  ;  I'm  goin'  to  carry  my  share 
of  the  burden.  I  was  mortified  with  myself 
Avhen  I  thought  it  all  over.  No,  I  am  not  going 
to  have  yon  put  me  on  a  p — p — pe — destal,  and 
think  I'm  better  than  yon." 

"  But  you  are,"  said  Nanny,  flying  at  her  im- 
patiently, and  throwing  her  arms  around  the 
chubby  Bowser,  "and  when  I  am  tempted  to  say 
quick  things  and  sharp  things,  I  am  going  to 
think  of  you  and  stop.  There  !  Now,  when 
you  are  ready  we  will  go  to  the  church  and 
enjoy  it  together.  That  bell  gave  warning 
some  time  ahead." 

It  was  a  very  restful  hour  in  the  little 
church,  when  the  pastor  met  his  flock.  His 
petitions  for  them  sank  into  a  deep  place  in 
Nanny's  .heart.  He  prayed  for  the  weak- 
hearted,  that  they  might  be  comforted,  for  the 
strengthening  of  all  who  stood,  and  the  raising  of 
the  fallen,  and  that  every  one  might  get  Satan 
under  foot. 

That  prayer  stilled  Nanny's  nature.  "He 
never  would  say  so  if  there  was  not  hope  for 
such  blessings,"  she  thought.  "I  like  that 
prayer." 


A  Seating  Drum.  113 

She  had  told  the  tramp  as  much  as  that  in  tlie 
first  cliapter  of  tliis  storv. 

For  some  reason,  she  thought  of  Aunt  Hul- 
dah  several  times.  Aunt  Huldah !  She  was 
once  the  inharmonious  element  of  the  family 
and  in  the  neighborhood.  Somehow  she  was 
out  of  joint  with  almost  all  her  kindred  and  ac- 
quaintances. When  slie  went  awaj  to  be'  a 
teacher  sometimes,  and  at  other  times  a  nurse, 
nobody  had  regrets,  for  she  had  made  every 
body  sorry  who  had  known  her.  She  had  had 
trouble  with  the  Bowsers  and  every  other 
neighbor.  She  was  like  the  hub  of  a  wheel 
whose  spokes  are  all  dislocated,  that  hub  touch- 
ing spokes  on  this  side  and  that  side,  and  yet 
none  of  them  are  firmly  and  evenly  in  place. 
"Wherever  in  domestic  or  social  relations  Huldah 
Frjfe  touched,  there  was  a  dislocation.  There 
was  one  exception.  Gilbert  French  was  that 
exception.  Somehow  her  peculiarities  amused 
him,  or  else  he  affected  amusement.  Why 
Huldah  Frye  should  come  into  the  thoughts  of 
any  in  the  Frye  neighborhood  that  day,  who 
could  say  ?  And  why  should  her  tall,  lank  fig- 
ure throw  its  shadow  across  ISTanny's  thonghts 
in  the  little  church?  That,  too,  was  a  mys- 
tery. 

"I    won't    think   of    you,    Aunt    Huldah," 


114      Drummer-Boy  of  the  Rappahannock. 

said  Nanny  resolutely.  "  You  are  nowhere 
near  here,  and  I  am  not  going  to  think  of 
you." 

So  she  gave  her  mind  to  the  touching  peti- 
tions in  the  prayers,  to  the  music  from  the  little 
organ  played  by  the  milliner  at  the  "  corners," 
to  the  red  roses  and  white  lilies  in  the  church 
windows,  to  the  old  pastor  with  his  white  hair, 
and  patient  face,  and  slow,  deliberate  words, 
Mr.  Millbury.  Every  thing  within  her  seemed 
brought  into  delightful  subjection  at  last.  In 
peace  she  left  the  church.  In  the  hush  of 
deeper,  more  quiet  thought  she  passed  the 
grave-yard.  When  she  neared  the  old  farm- 
house, she  exclaimed,  "  What  a  look  of  rest  it 
has ! " 

She  saw  her  father  in  the  doorway  as  she 
came  near  the  house. 

"  How  kind,"  she  thought,  "  to  step  to  the 
door  and  welcome  me  ! 

"  Is'anny,"  he  said,  a  peculiar  expression 
sweeping  across  his  face,  "your  Aunt  Huldali 
has  come ! " 

That  moment  it  seemed  as  if  the  whirlwind 
entered  I^anny's  soul,  and  before  it  went  in 
confusion  the  hour  of  prayer  and  all  its  attend- 
ant peace,  all  its  restful  associations,  like  the 
quiet  clouds  in  a  summer-sky  before  the  hurri- 


A  Seating  Drum.  115 

cane.  But  Miranda  Bowser  did  not  find  a 
chalk-mark  on  lier  door.  Aunt  Huldali  had 
forgotten.  Aunt  Huldah  had  had  a  sea  of 
trouble,  amidst  which  her  old,  unkind  purpose 
was  buried.  What  a  blessed  thing  it  is  that 
we  forget  sometimes  !  It  may  be  well  for  us, 
and  far  better  for  others,  that  we  have  a  "  short 
memory." 


116       Drummer-Boy  of  the  Rai^pahannock. 


CHAPTER  YII. 

MUST    BE    A    SOLDIER. 

*^"nUB-A-DUB!       Rub-a-dub!"    Forrest's 

\Sj  drum  was  sounding  out  in  the  road.  It 
came  nearer  and  nearer,  and  soon  Nanny  heard 
it  on  the  door-step.  Then  the  door  was  thrown 
open,  and  the  sharp,  echoing  rattle  of  the  war- 
like drum-sticks  invaded  the  kitchen  where 
ISTanny  was  pursuing  the  peaceful  occupation  of 
bread-making. 

"  O  Forrest !  "  she  cried,  ''  your  Aunt  Tluldah 
has  got  a  headache." 

He  stopped.  She  was  almost  sorry  she 
stopped  him,  for  Forrest  was  a  handsome  lad, 
and  an  unusual  excitement  lighted  up  his  feat- 
ures into  a  strange  beauty. 

"I  wanted  to  tell  you,  Nanny,"  he  said  peni- 
tentially,  a  very  subdued  expression  toning  down 
the  luster  of  his  eyes,  and  dulling  the  flush  on 
his  face,  "  I  wanted  to  tell  you,  Nanny,  that 
it  is  all  decided,  and  I  am  going  to  tlie  war. 
Father  says  so." 

"O  Forrest!" 


3Inst  Be  a  Soldier.  117 

That  was  all  she  said,  and  laid  her  hand  on 
her  heart,  while  the  big  tears  swam  in  her 
eyes  and  the  color  left  her  cheeks.  She  stag- 
gered. 

"You  sick?"  he  asked,  springing  forward 
and  supporting  her. 

"  0—0— no  !  " 

"  The  air  is  close  here,  Nanny !  That  is  it. 
You  have  to  spend  so  much  time  here  cooking 
for  Aunt  Huldah,  and  nursing  her  and  waiting 
on  her — just  like  an  angel — you,  I  mean — " 

"  O  don't  say  that !     Ilush,  here  is  father." 

lie  came  into  the  kitchen  just  as  N^anny 
sank  into  a  cliair.  He  did  not  seem  to  notice 
Xanny's  condition.  He  did  see  Forrest's  drum, 
and  he  sat  down  beside  it.  He  took  out  his 
rod  silk  handkerchief,  which,  like  its  owner, 
was  much  worn,  and  much  tlie  worse  for  the 
wearing. 

"Forrest  said  he  would  tell  you,  Nanny," 
began  Captain  Frye,  "  and  told  me  he  was  going 
to  do  it  with  his  drum — " 

Nanny  nodded  her  head. 

"  Then  he  has  done  it  ?  "  remarked  the  black- 
smith, wiping  his  forehead,  "  he  has  done  it. 
Well,  I  seem  to  think  it  is  for  the  best,  Nanny." 

It  was  singular  that  while  he  spoke  to  Nanny 
he  did   not  face  her.      He  turned  toward  the 


118      Drummer-Boy  of  the  Rappahannock. 

window  as  if  an  invisible  Nanny  were  out- 
side and  looking  in  ;  another  and  disembodied 
Nanny. 

"  Yes,  for  the  best,  Nanny.  You  see,  we  must 
take  sides  about  this  war.  Either  we  must  sup- 
port it  or  stand  aside  and  let  it  drop.  You  see, 
there  is  too  much  involved  not  to  take  sides. 
There  is  a  country  to  be  supported  and  to 
struggle  for.  There  are  slaves  to  be  made  free. 
Gilbert  French  thinks  I  am  an  abolitionist,  and 
I  glory  in  it.  Why  is  a  man  put  into  this 
wo]"ld  unless  he  is  to  try  to  make  it  better?  I 
should  be  ashamed  if  I  made  a  bundle  of  my 
conscience  and  left  it  behind  me  in  a  corner 
when  I  went  out." 

The  blacksmith  was  forgetting  any  personal 
sacrifice  for  the  war  in  tliis  enthusiastic  cham- 
pioning of  a  principle.  His  voice  became 
strong  and  full,  and  he  gesticulated  earnestly. 
The  voice  stopped  and  broke,  though,  and  tlie 
lifted  arm  fell  when  he  said,  "  There  must  be 
sacrifices,  though.  We  must  all  give  up  some- 
thing for  the  sake  of  so  good  a  cause.  I  wish  I 
could  go  myself,  Nanny,"  he  still  faced  the 
window,  "  for  it  is  a  good  cause.  I  can't, 
though.  I  am  too  old  a  man.  But  Forrest — " 
His  voice  quivered.     He  hesitated. 

"  Foi-rest  says  he  can  go.     He  is  not  afraid, 


Must  Be  a  Soldier.  119 

]ie  says.      He   has   told   Gilbert   French,    who 
seems  to  have — " 

"  Gilbert  French  !"  broke  out  Nanny.  "He 
is  at  the  bottom  of  this.  He  lias  been  daring 
Forrest.  He  has  been  talking  it  np  in  the 
neighborhood — he — " 

Kanny's  hands  were  clinched  as  if  to  strike. 

Forrest  now  broke  in,  "  Guess  I  have  had 
something  to  say  about  it ! " 

" Yes,  yes !"  resumed  the  blacksmith.  "All 
that  Gilbert  French  has  said  wouldn't  be  worth 
that — "  here  he  snapped  his  fingers — "if  For- 
rest was  not  interested  himself.  The  boy,  I 
know,  has  thought  it  all  over.  He  has  taken 
sides  in  the  matter.  He  believes  in  taking  the 
right  side.  I  feel  proud  of  his  principle.  If  I 
were  young,  I  believe  I  should  go  myself.  Of 
course,  we  shall  miss  Forrest,  Nanny.  I  have 
found  him  -awful  handy  in  the  shop— and  he  has 
been  a  good  boy — and — and — " 

What  was  it  now  coming  between  the  black- 
smitli  and  the  window  ?  A  sndden  rain,  a  mist 
from  the  sea?  Was  the  thought  of  Forrest's 
going  suddenly  oppressing  him  ?  Nanny  looked 
lip.  She  could  not  see  her  father's  face,  but 
Forrest  could  see  it.  Captain  Frye  did  not 
lower  his  head,  did  not  lift  his  tightly  held 
handkerchief  to  his  eyes,  for  he  was  making  a 


120       Drummer-Boy  of  the  Rappahannock. 

strong  effort  to  control  bis  feelings.  The  tears 
brimmed  liis  eves.  His  face  was  working  con- 
vulsively, but  was  stifHj  upright,  set  in  its 
gaze  at  that  window.  There  was  a  painful  still- 
ness in  the  old  kitchen.  Suddenly,  the  black- 
smith arose.  He  seized  the  boy's  hand.  •'  For- 
rest, you've  been  like  a  son.  We  shall  miss  you 
awfully  and — we — we — but  I  can't  say  what  I 
want  to  !  Be  a  good -b-boy— and  take  God  with 
— with  you  !  " 

The  blacksmith  dropped  Forrest's  hand,  and, 
covering  his  face  with  his  handkerchief,  ruslied 
out  of  the  room. 

Forrest  heard  Nanny  sobbing  too.  What 
had  he  done?  He  felt  like  a  murderer.  He 
felt,  too,  the  misery  of  parting  from  those  he 
loved  best.  He  had  not  reckoned  on  this  scene. 
He  had  been  swept  along  to  a  decision,  borne 
on  a  current  of  patriotic  feeling.  Of  course,  he 
must  leave  those  at  home,  but  he  did  not  realize 
how  painful  the  parting  might  be  for  them,  and 
he  began  now  to  feel  twitches  of  pain  on  his 
own  account.  The  old  kitchen,  would  he  not 
miss  its  warm  shelter?  Soldiers  were  forced  to 
put  up  with  any  kind  of  bed,  or  do  without  one 
altogether,  endure  hunger,  and  go  on  long,  hard 
marches,  perhaps  be  shot  and  horribly  muti- 
lated.    Would    any   N'anny    or    Captain    Frye, 


Mast  Be  a  Soldier.  121 

whom  lie  called  "  father,"  be  near  him  in  the 
extremities  of  suffering,  perhaps  death  ?  All 
this  now  came  to  him,  rushed  upon  him  and 
over  him,  and  like  a  current  from  the  cold  At- 
lantic chilled  him.  O  what  a  forlorn,  wretched 
being !  Making  others  so  miserable,  and  so  un- 
happy himself  !  What  awful  thing  had  he  done  ? 
That  drum,  how  guilty  it  looked  !  Had  he  bet- 
ter not  kick  it,  rush  it  out  of  sight,  jam  his  foot 
through  its  offending  head  ?  O  what  a  wretch 
was  Forrest  Hooper,  sometimes  known  as  For- 
rest Frye ;  as  if  really  the  son  of  that  good,  warm- 
natured,  noble-hearted  blacksmith ! 

"  I  don't  want  to  go,"  he  muttered,  "  sure  I 
don't,  if  I  am  going  to  make  you  all  so  miserable, 
Nanny." 

"  Forrest,  dear,"  she  whispered,  ''  you  come 
out  to  the  Lion  with  me  !  " 

The  Lion  was  not  an  animal  of  flesh  and 
bko  1,  but  mere  earth  and  grass  and  trees.  It 
was  a  hill  that  rose  back  of  the  house.  It  had  a 
long  slope  down  to  the  shore.  Once  it  was  cov- 
ered with  a  pine  forest.  All  the  trees  on  the 
hill  had  been  cut  away  except  those  on  the 
western  third,  its  highest  quarter.  These  rose  in 
a  shaggy  clump,  projecting  like  a  lion's  head 
with  its  bushy  mane.  Back  from  this  clump 
sloped    very    gradually,   evenly,    gracefully,   a 


122     Drummer-Doy  of  the  Rappahannoch. 

stretch  of  pasture  land  reaching  down  to  tlie 
shore.  To  one  upon  the  sea,  the  whole  looked 
like  a  lion  crouching.  Somebody  called  it  •■•  The 
Lion,"  and  by  that  name  Forrest  and  Nanny 
knew  it.  Up  on  the  Lion's  head,  on  a  rock  un- 
der a  pine,  they  had.  often  sat,  watched  the 
wide,  sparkling  sea,  and  talked  about  the  ves- 
sels going  by  with  white,  lifted  wrings.  When 
a  storm  was  coming  on,  they  would  sometimes 
climb  the  Lion's  neck  and  from  this  rock  look 
off  upon  the  anger  of  sea  and  sky.  In  their 
youthful  trials  they  might  come  here  to  discuss 
them,  for  in  the  pines  whispering  behind  them, 
or  the  sea  roaring  before  them,  they  would  hear 
a  voice  saying  over  some  mysterious  counsel. 
Slowly  now  they  went  out  to  the  Lion.  Both 
had  the  thought,  neither  expressed  it — would 
they  man}^  times  more  chmb  the  old  hill  ? 

Since  childhood  the  hill-path  had  been  often 
beaten  by  their  feet.  That  they  were  not  brother 
and  sister  has  been  previously  indicated  in  this 
story. 

Forrest  Hooper  had  been  in  the  house  of 
Nanny  Frye's  father  almost  as  long  as  she  had 
been.  Skipper  Bowser  had  told  her  the  story 
over  and  over  again.  "  Cap'n  Frye  and  I  had 
been  down  on  the  shore  one  evenin'.  It  was  a 
still  night,  kind  of  a  sleepy-feelin'  night,  and  the 


3Iast  Be  a  Soldier.  123 

waves  kept  beatin'  the  time  sort  of  softly  on  tlie 
beach,  as  if  they  wanted  to  put  yon  to  sleep.    The 
cap'n  and  I  were  passin'  the  house  where  George 
and  Lizzy  now  live,  and  we  saw  in  the  moon- 
liglit  a  man  and   a  woman  sittin'  on  the  door- 
step,  and  the  man  had  a  bundle  in  his  arms. 
'Friends,'  says  the  man,  'nobody  seems  to  be 
livin'  here,  and  can  you  tell  us  of  a  place  where 
we  might  stop?     We've  been  travelin'.'     Your 
f ether  owned  tlie  house,  and  it  was  jest  like  him  to 
speak  up  and  say,  '  You  can  go  in  here  and  stop. 
A  bed  is  there  and  a  lamp,  at  any  rate.'     I  felt 
a  leetle  resky  'bout  admittin'  strangers  too  freely, 
but,  bless  me,  your  fetlier  would  go  out  of  his 
bed  any  night  for  a  tramp,  when  it  would  be 
like  me  to  get  out  in  the  mornin'.     The  cap'n 
let'  em  go  into  the  house,  and  I  follered.     The 
man    opened    the    bundle,    and    there   was   the 
tintiest  but  purtiest   baby  I  ever  seed.     ^Yell, 
them  folks  stayed  there  a  spell,  for  tlie  woman 
was  taken  sick,  and  grew  sicker  right  straight 
along.      She   was    a   gentle   crittur,   and  when 
dyin'  the    cap'n   promised    her    that    her  boy 
should  not  want  fur  a  hum.     So  the  cap'n  took 
the  baby  and  brought  it  up.     The  fether  took 
the  wife's  death  veiy  hard.     Finally,  he  said  it 
was  lonesome  stayin'  there,  and  he  would  go  to 
the  western  mines,  and  when  he  earned  suthin' 


124       Drummer-Boy  of  the  Rappahannock. 

lie  would  come  back  and  get  the  baby.  But 
those  western  mines,  bless  us !  As  I  tell  'em, 
you  take  out  stones  and  leave  your  bones.  For 
a  long  while  he  wrote,  but  never  in  good  luck. 
IS'obody  knows  where  that  man  is.  He's  bleach- 
in'  out  there,  I  'spose,  at  the  foot  of  the  Rockies, 
like  some  other  miners." 

Although  Captain  Frye  took  the  little  babe 
into  his  home  he  did  not  actually  adopt  it,  as  he 
had  scruples  of  conscience  in  the  matter.  Some 
time  the  father  might  return  for  the  boy,  he 
said. 

J^anny  recalled  the  skipper's  story  as  she  and 
Forrest  now  climbed  the  Lion  together.  How 
many  memories  were  revived !  As  the  sea  and 
the  islands  and  the  coast-rocks  all  disappear  in 
tlie  dark  and  seem  to  be  lost,  but  in  the  moon- 
light come  again,  stretching  out,  rising  up  into 
prominence  in  the  moonlight,  so  tlie  past  some- 
how appeared  to  her  as  it  had  not  before  for  a 
long  time.  Forrest  and  Nanny  Frj'e  had  been 
brought  up  together  as  brother  and  sister.  That 
they  were  not,  they  plainly  knew.  When  Nan- 
ny was  about  fifteen  her  mother  died,  and  al- 
tlumgh  a  housekeeper  came  into  the  family, 
Nanny's  capability  and  tact  gave  her  promi- 
nence in  the  home,  and  she  was  accustomed  to 
do  for  Forrest  many  things  that  naturally  fall 


3fust  Be  a  Soldier.  125 

to  an  older  sister.  Bj  the  time  that  Nanny  was 
seventeen  she  assumed  the  care  of  the  house, 
assisted  by  a  servant-girl.  As  the  years  had  gone 
on,  Nanny's  care  for  Forrest  increased.  "  I  am 
so  needy,  such  a  beggar,  Nan,"  he  would  say, 
"  that  I  can't  possibly  get  along  without  you." 

It  was  Nanny  who  cared  for  his  clothes— sew- 
ing on  buttons,  closing  up  rents,  darning  stock- , 
ings.  It  was  Nanny  who  knew  just  the  herb, 
bundled  and  swinging  from  a  garret  rafter,  that 
would  charm  away  Forrest's  headache  or  fever- 
turn.  It  was  Nanny  who  knew  what  table  deli- 
cacies would  please  Forrest,  and  could  cook 
them  better  than  any  one  else  ;  a  power  that 
brings  hungry  and  dependent  man  down  to  the 
feet  of  woman.  It  was  Nanny  who  trimmed 
Forrest's  room  in  autumn,  and  made  it  gay  as  a 
maple  forest  with  her  wreaths  and  crowns  and 
stars  and  crosses  and  anchors.  It  was  Nanny's 
clear  way  of  seeing  things,  her  decision  and 
prudence,  that  made  her  such  a  good  counselor 
for  Forrest  in  trouble.  It  was  Nanny  who  was 
almost  every  thing  to  Forrest.  Little  by  little, 
Nanny  came  to  feel  that  Forrest  belonged  to  her. 
She  had  not  thought  of  the  future,  and  it  seemed 
as  if  things  must  go  on  after  the  old  fashion 
always,  she  and  Forrest  living  together  as  sister 
and  brother,  she  caring  for  him  and  he  depend- 


126      Drummer-Boy  of  the  Rapimhannock. 

ent  on  lier.  But  somehow,  tlie  patli  that  had 
been  wide  enough  for  two  suddenly  became  too 
narrow,  and  it  was  dividing  into  two  paths,  one 
stopping  at  home,  winding  about  the  old  farm, 
down  to  Skipper  Bowser's,  out  along  the  echo- 
ing shore,  up  here  on  the  Lion.  The  other  path 
shot  off,  far  off,  into  a  niystei'ious  war-world, 
across  battle-lields,  into  hospitals.  Nanny  did 
not  like  to  follow  in  thought  this  path  any  longer. 
Would  she,  though,  hold  Forrest  back  from  it  % 
He  had  a  brave,  generous  nature.  She  admired 
his  daring.  She  praised  his  quick,  ready  choice 
of  the  right  when  he  was  placed  between  the 
right  and  the  wrong.  She  knew  he  was  heeding 
a  noble,  unselfish  princiiDle  in  wanting  to  go  to 
the  war,  though  she  did  not  like  Gilbert 
French's  interference.  Had  not  JSTanny  con- 
tinually stimulated  Forrest  to  attempt  great 
things,  though  she  had  never  named  them  in 
detail?  She  had  been  preparing  him  uncon- 
sciously for  this  very  hour.  Would  she  now 
hold  him  back?  At  last,  out  of  the  tumult  of 
feeling  in  her  soul,  these  questions  arose :  "  If 
you  really  love  your  country,  you  will  now  sac- 
rifice for  it,  will  you  not?  If  Forrest  must  sac- 
rifice, you  will  make  it  easy  for  him,  will  you 
not  ? "  These  questions  went  down  to  the  pro- 
foundest  depths  of  her  soul  and  stirred  them. 


Must  Be  a  Soldier.  127 

At  that  word  "  sacrifice,"  Nanny's  nature  was 
swayed  as  a  willow  by  the  wind.  It  was 
deep  planted  in  her  nature  to  do  for  others. 
It  was  something  in  her  Christian  life  that  un- 
der the  influence  of  the  Holy  Ghost  nnist  have 
a  new  growth,  a  new  blossoming,  a  new  fruit- 
age. Was  Nanny  sincerely  striving  in  her  life 
to  illustrate  that  law  of  sacrifice  forever  trans- 
figured in  the  light  and  glory  of  the  cross?  Her 
illustration  of  it  had  seemed  so  dim  and  blurred 
and  unworthy.  Would  she  refuse  the  new 
summons?  She  answered  this  question  while 
walking  up  the  liilL  She  decided  it  then,  while 
the  cool  sea-w^'nd  was  blowing  on  her  heated 
cheeks.  Forrest  might  take  the  new  path.  She 
would  help  him.  And  if  the  two  paths  di- 
verged, never  to  meet  —  Nanny  did  not  com- 
plete the  supposition. 

They  had  reached  the  rock  under  the  pine 
and  sat  down.     The  sea  was  noisy. 

"  I  should  think  the  sea  would  be  tired  of 
this  continual  roar,  roar,"  said  Nanny,  "  but  it 
never  is.  I  should  think  it  would  stop  some- 
time." 

It  does  stop,  with  each  wave  that  breaks  and 
rolls  out  its  life  into  foam,  only  to  begin  again  in 
the  next  wave  that  sweeps  over  and  drowns  the 
froth  of  its  predecessor.     Sound  always  ceasing, 


128      Drummer- Boy  of  the  Ruppahannoclc. 

and  yet  ever  continued!  Time  and  eternity 
symbolized  there,  on  the  same  narrow  strip  or 
wliite  sand  !  And  in  that  reverberation  of  the 
sounding  sea  liow  much  is  conveyed  to  the  ear ! 
The  echo  of  the  helpful  wind  filling  many  sails 
for  prosperous  voyages,  the  song  of  the  sailor 
on  the  yard,  the  joy  of  the  fisherman  returning 
with  a  successful  fare,  the  sport  of  children  on 
many  summer  beaches,  the  laugh  of  the  invalid 
gaining  strength  upon  the  sea !  And  then  are 
caught  those  other  sounds,  the  crash  of  waves 
rolling  out  of  their  home  amid  mists  and  storms, 
the  fury  of  tempests  hurrying  through  the  air, 
tiie  death-cry  of  tlie  sailor  whose  voyage  ends  in 
a  wreck,  and  the  sobs  of  woman  and  child  over 
some  fisherman's  body  thrown  upon  the  sands ! 
Yery  soon,  though,  the  thoughts  of  Forrest  and 
ISTanny  were  transferred  from  the  sea  to  them- 
selves, and  Forrest  said, 

"Nanny!" 

•'What?" 

"  Nanny,  I  don't  want  to  be  hasty.  I  think 
I  am  ready  to  do  my  duty,  though  I  did  not 
know  I  should  feel  this  way ;  feel  like  a  coward 
and  like  backing  out  wlien  1  see  what  I  am 
leaving.  Still,  I  am  readj^  Somebody  must 
go-" 

She  interrupted  him :  "  Yes ;   if  the  young 


Must  Be  a  Soldier.  129 

men  don't  go,  who  will  ?  I  think  young  men 
may  reasonably  take  that  step." 

"  What  ?  Nanny  become  a  war-champion  ! 
Do  you  mean  it?  Didn't  you  break  a  com- 
mandment, then? " 

"  No,  not  even  scratched  it.  I  have  come  to 
that  way  of  thinking.     Somebody  must  go." 

"  Well,  Nanny,  if  somebody  must  go,  then 
why  not  Forrest  Hooper?  I  am  ready  but — I 
did  not  know  father  would  feel  so  bad" —  lie 
called  Captain  Frye  father  almost  always — "  I 
did  not  know  he  would  feel  so  bad.  If  by 
waiting,  say  a  little  while,  he  would  feel  bet- 
ter, why,  why,  I  am  thinking  it  might  be 
better—" 

"  Forrest,  see  here !  Just  to  put  it  off  will 
not  make  father  feel  any  better.  If  you  are 
going,  you  might  as  well  go  soon — as  far  as  his 
feelings  are  concerned.  And  you  know  him. 
If  he  once  gets  the  idea  that  you  are  Consulting 
his  feelings,  that  he  is  any  kind  of  an  obstacle, 
he  will  rise  right  above  it.  He  would  almost 
hurry  you  off.  He  has  a  noble  nature.  You 
know  that." 

"  Well,  Nanny,  are  you  ready  ? " 

Nanny  was  grave  in  a  moment.  Deep 
down  in  her  heart  she  gave  a  little  sigh  like  the 
moving  of  deep  waters  down  in  the  ocean  caves, 


130     Drummer-Boy  of  the  Rappahannock. 

that  no  one  hears.  He  would  not  have  asked 
that  question  in  just  that  way  if  he  had  thought  a 
moment  longer.  He  had  asked  it,  though.  Nan- 
ny was  ready  to  answer  it.  She  lifted  her  eyes. 
She  could  look  deep  down  into  Forrest's  heart 
when  she  had  a  mind  to  do  it,  and  the  young 
man  knew  it.  She  looked  deeper  than  ever  that 
day.  Her  searching  eyes  were  like  the  sudden 
shining  of  a  vivid  light  out  of  a  cloudy  sky. 
He  never  forgot  how  she  looked.  The  light  in 
tliose  eyes  went  with  him  far  away,  and  kept 
shining  upon  and  searching  him ;  by  day  when 
the  storm  smote  down  ;  at  night  in  his  sleep,  on 
the  march,  in  the  battle. 

She  only  said,  "  Forrest,  you  ought  to  know 
how  1  feel  about  it.  Of  course,  I  —I  don't  want 
you  to  go — you — you  are— like  a  brother — " 

She  stopped. 

She  began  again :  "If  you  feel  it  is  your 
duty  to  go,  I  respect,  admire  your  motive.  I 
won't  hold  you  back.     I  will  help  you." 

It  was  not  what  Nanny  said,  but  the  way  slie 
said  it,  the  way  she  looked,  that  made  all  this 
significant. 

And  Forrest  only  said,  "  Thank  you.  Yes, 
Nanny,  you  are  like — a  sister — I  believe  you." 

That  was  all.  In  the  looking,  not  eye  into 
eye,  but  soul  into  soul,  they  were  conscious  that 


31  list  Be  a  Soldier.  131 

thej  were  something  more  than  brother  and 
sister. 

She  only  said,  "  I  guess  we  will  be  walking 
home  now.     It  is  getting  cold  up  here." 

"  So  it  is." 

He  had  not  been  aware  of  it  before,  but  now 
a  cool  wind  was  blowing  over  the  sea.  The 
voice  of  the  waves  was  like  the  roar  of  hoarse 
trumpets.  Was  a  storm  coming?  The  mist 
fringed  the  distant  hills,  and  the  last  rays  of  the 
sun  angrily  scowled  through  the  pines  beyond 
the  western  marshes.  Forrest  went  to  the  shop 
to  help  Captain  Frye. 

As  for  Nanny,  she  went  to  the  old  farm-house, 
walking  slowly  and  thinking  busily.  She  at- 
tended to  her  duties  about  the  house,  and  early 
went  to  her  room  for  the  night.  She  blew  out 
her  light  and  set  it  upon  the  mantel-piece. 
Tlien  she  went  to  a  window  that  looked  off 
upon  the  sea. 

"  I  will  shut  down  the  window,  it  is  so  cool," 
she  said. 

Across  lonely  spaces  of  water  the  light-houses 
winked  their  eyes  at  Nanny — eyes  red  with 
long  watching.  She  fancied,  as  she  sat  at  the 
window,  that  she  heard  the  chilling  dash  of  the 
ocean  wav^es  breaking  on  many  isolated  ledges, 
and  her  heart  seemed  like  a  lonely  rock  beaten 


132     Drummer- J3o\j  of  the  Rappahannock. 

by  the  waves.  She  began  to  understand  why  it 
was  that  she  had  taken  no  interest  in  Forrest's 
going.  She  was  surprised  at  the  revehition  of 
feehng  made  to  her,  and  afraid  that  in  some 
way  the  seci'et  might  escape  from  her  and  make 
its  way  through  the  walls  to  Forrest's  room  aTid 
wake  him  out  of  his  sound  sleep  into  a  surprise. 
Nanny  was  no  more  ready  at  the  time  to  re- 
veal to  any  one  her  feelings  than  the  sun  is  to 
proclaim  to  the  world  what  becomes  of  the  dew 
that  glistens  in  the  sad  eyes  of  the  forget-me- 
not.  Slie  wanted  to  say  to  Forrest  that  she  was 
sorry  she  had  been  so  selfish,  and  had  not  more 
readily  entered  into  his  plans,  but  in  the  telling 
she  might  have  betrayed  the  secret  why  she  felt 
reluctant  to  say,  "  Yes."  She  boxed  up  her 
feelings  as  carefully  as  we  inclose  rare  ermine 
in  the  fragrant  darkness  of  a  cedar  closet. 

That  night  her  hot  face  was  pressed  a  long  time 
against  the  cool  window-pane.  At  last  she  knelt 
by  the  window  and  she  prayed  that  her  God  might 
be  Forrest's ;  that  he  might  be  led  to  do  that 
which  he  had  never  done,  consecrate  himself  to 
the  service  of  God ;  tliat  he  might  be  kept  amid 
the  temptations  of  camp  and  the  tumult  of  bat- 
tle, and  that  she  herself  might  lead  that  life  of 
self-denial  to  which  she  had  once  said  she  would 
consecrate  herself. 


Must  Be  a  Soldier.  133 

The  next  morning,  when  she  arose  and  entered 
the  kitchen,  Forrest  saw  only  a  cheerful,  peace- 
ful face. 

"  How  pretty  Nanny  looks ! "  he  thought. 
"  How  tasty  her  dress  is !  She  does  not  know 
how  becoming  her  dress  is.  Nanny  does  know 
how  to  do  things." 

But  Forrest's  thoughts  were  not  so  much  on 
Nanny  as  on  her  father.  He  was  thinking  about 
yesterday's  decision  that  he  would  beat  a  drum 
in  his  country's  service.  He  i-ecalled  also  her 
father's  sorrowful,  tearful  agitation  when  the 
subject  of  Forrest's  departure  was  discussed. 
Forrest  now  said  to  Nanny : 

"  Say,  Nanny,  I  have  been  thinking  it  over  in 
the  night,  and  I  have  made  up  my  mind  to  this : 
that  if  father  can't  let  me  go  of  his  own  free 
accord — if  he  don't  think  it  best — or — or — if  it 
is  going  to  make  such  a  difference  to  him  though 
he  is  willing,  why,  then,  I  can't  go.  And  I  think 
I  will  go  and  tell  him  now.     Is  he  in  his  room  ? " 

"  You  wait,  Forrest.  If  any  body  speaks  to 
him,  let  me  first.  I  don't  think  he  has  left  his 
room,  Forrest.  I  know  father,  and  I  don't 
think  he  will  care  to  have  you  stay  for  him.  It 
wouldn't  be  like  him ;  but  you  let  me  speak  to 
him.     I'll  be  back  in  a  minute." 

Nanny  left  her  work,  and  stepped  out  from 


134     Drummer-Boy  of  the  Rajyixihannock. 

the  kitclien  into  a  little  passage-way  conducting 
to  tlie  back-stairs.  Her  stepping  was  not  very 
alert,  a  fact  wliicli  Forrest  noticed,  and  he  won- 
dered how  she  could  be  "back  in  a  minute." 
Up  the  old  brown  stairs,  scented  by  bunches  of 
herbs  swinging  from  the  walls,  slowly  toiled 
Nanny.  She  opened  a  door  at  the  right,  passed 
through  a  little  wardrobe,  and  then  tapped  on 
an  inner  door.  There  was  no  response  from 
within. 

"  May  be,"  concluded  Nanny,  "  may  be  that 
father  isn't  here.  Pei'haps  lie  has  gone  to  the 
shop.  I'll  just  push  the  door  open,  and  make 
certain  that  he  is  not  here." 

She  pushed  open  the  door. 

"  Why,  he  is  here,  sitting  in  his  chair."  She 
said  aloud,  "  Father,  why  didn't  you  answer  me? 
Why,  see  that  bird  !     Hear  him." 

On  the  ledge  of  the  opened  window  sat  a 
robin,  and  he  suddenly  broke  ont  into  an  ec- 
static strain,  and  then  flew  away.  Yes,  off 
into  the  freshness  and  stillness  of  the  morning 
he  flew,  singing  so  jubilantly !  Why  was  it 
that  he  lifted  into  the  morning  heavens  that 
song  so  exultant  ? 

"  Wliy,  father,  you  have  such  callers  as  that  ?  " 
asked  Nanny,  stepping  forward  to  the  old-fash- 
ioned arm-chair   in   which  sat  the  blacksmith. 


Must  Be  a  Soldier.  135 

His  head  drooped  as  if  weary.  In  liis  lap  was 
his  old  browu  leather-covered  Bible. 

"  Why,  he  is  asleep,"  thought  Nanny ;  '•'  but 
I  should  have  supposed  that  bird  would  have 
awakened  him." 

She  gently  laid  her  hand  on  his  shoulder, 
caught  one  nearer,  fuller  look  at  his  face,  and 
then  it  seemed  as  if  her  heart  sto^^ped  beat- 
ing. 

"  Why,  father !  "  she  exclaimed  in  fright. 

A  single  minute  she  lingered,  as  if  all  power 
to  stir  were  taken  away.  Then  she  flew  down- 
stairs. 

"  O,  Forrest !  Do  come  here  !  I  believe  father 
has  gone  !     Quick  !  "  cried  Nanny. 

That  bird  had  come  back,  and,  wheeling  in 
front  of  the  window,  trilled  his  sweetest  notes, 
but  Nanny  did  not  hear,  Forrest  did  not  hear. 
Tliey  only — saw.  They  saw  just  the  semblance 
of  the  old  blacksmith.  It  seemed  as  if  he  had 
come  from  his  work,  and  slowly,  wearily  climb- 
ing the  stairs,  had  entered  his  chamber,  and 
casting  aside  liis  coat,  as  he  often  did,  left  it  on 
the  chair,  and  had  stepped  out  of  the  room. 
Tins,  that  Forrest  and  Nanny  saw  in  the  old- 
fashioned  arm-chair,  was  the  burdensome  gar- 
ment that  the  blacksmith  had  thrown  aside, 
and  whicli  he  would  not  need  again.     He  him- 


130     Drummer-Boy  of  the  P^dppahannoch. 

self  had  gone.  Did  not  that  bird's  exultant 
song  suggest  a  welcome  to  the  ti'iumphal  rejoic- 
ings of  heaven  ? 

The  funeral  was  on  Easter  dav,  which  was 
close  at  hand  when  Captain  Frye  died.  It  was 
an  Easter  sun  that  shone  on  the  little  cemetery 
where  the  funeral  procession  halted  around 
an  open  grave  for  the  closing  service.  It  did 
not  look  like  a  grave,  for  it  was  lined  with  ever- 
green, and  all  around  its  edge  were  sprigs  of 
spruce.  When  the  solemn  words  were  uttered, 
"  Eartli  to  earth,  ashes  to  ashes,  dust  to  dust," 
Nanny  let  fall  sprays  of  Easter  lilies  from  tlie 
old  church,  and  they  looked  like  flakes  of  the 
purest  snow  dropping  on  the  casket, 

"It  don't  seem  like  a  burial,"  said  Skipper 
Bowser  to  his  wife,  as  they  moved  away  from 
the  cemetery,  where  the  sun  still  shone  and  the 
birds  sang. 

"And  it  hasn't  seemed  like  a  death,  Jerry." 

"  Went  so  sudden,  Mirandy  !  " 

"I  know  it.  That  might  seem  queer,  but 
the  doctor  sez  he  has  been  expectin'  it." 

"He  said  so?" 

"  Yes;  he  sez  the  caj^'n  has  had  heart-trouble, 
and  he  warned  him  not  to  drive  his  work  so ; 
and  the  day  afore  he  died  he  turned  off  an 
amazin'  lot  of  work." 


Must  Be  a  Soldier.  137 

"  But  he  bad  a  hand  in  the  shop." 

"  I  know  it,  Jerry,  but  he's  one  of  them  folks 
tliat  allers  would  do  the  work  of  their  hands. 
Never  spared  hisself,  never !  " 

"  I  know  it.  Jest  like  him.  I  wonder  what 
Nanny  will  do,  and  Huldah  !  Huldah  seems  all 
broken  up.     Don't  see  much  of  her." 

"Sick;  and  that's  what  brought  her  home, 
and  that's  what  has  kept  her  in-doors.  See  her 
a-leanin'  on  Forrest.  They  say  she  quite  takes 
to  the  boy.  O,  she  and  Naimy  will  stay  in  the 
old  house.  Forrest — I  don't  know — but  I  ven- 
tnr'  to  say  you  won't  hear  his  drum  a-beatin' 
round  here  much." 

"  Somebody  says  the  cap'n  took  on  about  For- 
rest's goin'  away ;  that  is,  he  felt  it,  though  he 
wouldn't  give  in  to  it." 

"  And  Forrest  told  me  he  wouldn't  go  if  it 
made  the  cap'n  feel  so  bad." 

It  almost  seemed  as  if  Captain  Frye,  knowing 
if  he  lived  that  Forrest  might  be  deterred  from 
going  to  the  war,  quietly  took  himself  out  of  the 
way.  That  settled  the  whole  subject.  Nanny 
said  one  day, 

"  Forrest,  before  the  summer  is  over,  we  will 
try  to  have  every  tiling  so  arranged  that  you 
can  go  to  the  war.  You  might  get  well  under 
way  what  land  there  is  to  be  cultivated,  and 


138      Drummer-Boy  of  the  Rappahannock. 

the  shop  I  shall  let.     You  can — go — if — you — 
wish." 

Forrest  never  knew  what  an  effort  it  cost 
ISTannj  to  saj  those  last  six  words.  Slie  kept 
the  pain  deep  hidden  in  her  breast,  and  Forrest 
made  ready  to  beat  a  drum  in  the  war. 


S^^ 


Gilbert  Makes  a  Call.  139 


I 


CHAPTEE  VIII. 

*       GILBERT   MAKES  A    CALL. 

T  was  now  tlie  latter  part  of  June.  Tlie 
evening  air  was  chilly.  A  fire  bad  been  kin- 
dled on  the  broad  hearth  of  the  sitting-room  in 
the  Frye  home.  The  light  from  this  fire  reached 
the  windows,  and  swept  across  them  in  flashes 
that  came  and  went  like  the  flashing  of  the 
aurora  in  the  northern  sky.  ISTanny  was  sitting 
alone  before  the  fire.  It  had  been  a  perplexing 
day.  The  tenant  of  Captain  Frye's  shop  had 
given  Xanny  much  trouble,  proving  to  be  a 
man  of  intemperate  habits,  and  Nanny  had  been 
forced  that  day  to  ask  Skipper  Bowser  and 
George  to  come  to  the  shop  and  stop  a  carousal 
there.  If  Forrest  had  been  at  home  he  could 
have  helped  Nanny,  but  a  recruiting-office  had 
been  opened  at  the  Port,  and  he  had  gone 
there  to  see  the  recruiting-officer  about  enlist- 
ing. He  expected  to  be  at  home  in  the  morn- 
ing. Nanny  had  missed  him.  It  was  a  day  of 
jjerplexity,  and  she  missed,  too,  her  father.  She 
was  sitting  alone,  thinking  about  her  father,  when 


140       Drummer-Boy  of  the  Rappahannock. 

she  lieard  a  noise.  Was  that  the  sound  of  scrap- 
ing feet  at  the  door?  The  latch  was  raised,  and 
in  came  Eliza  and  George. 

"  Why,  honey,  be  yer  all  alone  ?  Xo  one  at 
all  wid  yer?  Jest  in  time,  George,  to  keep  dis 
poor  cliile  comp'ny,"  and  EHza  laid  a  sympa- 
thizing hand  on  Nanny's  shoulder-  as  she  sat 
down  beside  her.  George  seated  himself  on  the 
other  side,  and  J^anny  felt  stronger  with  these 
faithful  sable  supports  close  at  hand. 

"  De  cap'n  w^as  a  mighty  nice  ole  man,"  said 
the  male  sable  comforter.  "You  miss  him  a 
lieap  a  day  like  dis." 

"  Xo  one  as  I  know  had  a  word  fur  to  say  agin 
him,  George." 

"No,  Li-zay.  Dey  couldn't  cotch^him  in  any 
insin-ker-sist-ency,"  said  George,  grappling  with 
a  big  word,  and  trying  to  throw  it. 

"Drefful  hard  dis;  drefful  hard  dis!  I  can 
only  see  two  things  to  soffen  de  blow.  One  is, 
you  hab  your  health  and  strength.  Dat  is  good. 
De  odder  is  dat — " 

"  De  Lor'  reigns !  "  said  George,  solemnly. 

"  Yes,  yes,"  said  Eliza,  "  de  Lor'  reigns.  (He 
oughter  to  have  been  a  min'ster,"  she  whis^^ered 
proudly  to  Nanny,  pointing  at  George.) 

Those  words,  "  de  Lor'  reigns,"  lingered  with 
Nanny.      George  and  Eliza  -went  on   talking. 


Gilbert  Makes  a  Call.  141 

I^anny  scarcely  knew  what  tliey  did  say  after- 
ward, for  she  was  saying  to  herself,  "  God 
reigns!  God  reigns!"  He  reigns  in  his  power, 
and  he  reigns  in  his  love.  She  was  only  a  drift- 
ing bit  on  the  great  ocean-cnrrent  of  events,  bnt 
that  current  was  sweeping  onward  in  the  direc- 
tion of  infinite  love  and  blessing.  The  question 
that  she  was  to  answer  was  this :  "  Have  I  sub- 
mitted to  that  power  and  love  ?  Am  I  willing 
that  God  sliould  reign.  I  am  only  a  drifting  bit, 
but  drifting  bits  will  gather  in  the  crevices  of 
hindering  ledges,  and  all  progress  there  be 
checked.  Am  I  willing  to  trust  to  the  great 
current  of  divine  care  and  love?  It  will  not  bear 
me  amiss,  and  I  can  trust  it."  It  almost  seemed 
to  her  as  if  there  were  an  actual  yielding  to  this 
current,  a  grateful  falling  back  and  resting  upon 
it,  so  that  slie  ceased  to  hear  the  voices  of  George 
and  Eliza.  There  was  only  a  pleasant,  musical 
murmur,  first  on  one  side,  and  then  on  the  other. 

In  the  midst  of  all  this  came  a  smart  rap  at 
the  door,  one  of  those  loud,  patronizing,  self- 
consequential  raps  whose  language  is,  "It  is 
somebody  of  importance !  Big  I  is  at  the  door  ! 
Let  me  in  quick  !  " 

"  My ! "  exclaimed  Eliza,  "  Dat  is  a  mos'  a 
powerful  knock.     Somebody  is  dar,  sure." 

When  she  went  to  the  door  a  voice  of  much 


142       Drummer- Boy  of  the  Rappahannock. 

suavity  and  conceit  was  heard  ;  a  voice  with 
many  inflections,  with  many  windings  and  turns 
like  the  threads  of  a  screw ;  a  voice  that  insin- 
uates and  worms  its  way  along  like  a  screw ;  a 
voice  behind  which  is  a  will  harder  than  a  screw. 

''  Is  Miss  Nanny  in  ? " 

"Whodis?" 

"  Gilbert  French,"  said  the  smooth,  screw- 
like voice. 

"  She  knowed  dat  afore.  She  'spises  dat 
Gilbert  French,"  whispered  George  to  Nanny. 

'Eliza  did  not  budge  an  inch  at  the  door,  im- 
movable and  dumb  as  the  Sphinx. 

"  Woman,  this  is  not  ceremonious  ! "  said  the 
voice,  irritated  now.     This  he  repeated. 

"  I  only  axed  you  wJio  dis?" 

"Gilbert  French." 

"  Well,  if  you  says  so,  I  'spose  you  be." 

"  But  I  want  to  see  Miss  Nanny." 

"  O,  you  do  !  Why  didn't  you  say  dat  afore  ? 
How's  I  gwine  to  look  into  folk's  hearts,  'spe- 
cially if  dey  hab  obercoats  on  ?  " 

"  You  can  see  if  you  want  to,"  muttered  the 
man. 

'•'  You  want  fur  to  see  Miss  Nanny  ? " 

"  Certainly." 

"  Wall,  I'm  in  a  heap  of  a  doubt  ef  you  can. 
She  has  a  peck  ob  trouble  to  bear  now." 


Gilbert  MaJica  a  Cull.  143 

"  What  if  you  should  ask  lier  ?  " 

"  O,  you  want  me  fur  to  ax  her  ?  Chile,  ef 
you  had  said  dat  in  de  fustcst  place,  I  should 
hab  had  yer  errau'.  It  jest  sjiiles  my  good  tem- 
per, and  makes  me  wuss  dan  a  Mexican  mule,  to 
luib  fo|ks  hang  on  de  door-step,  an'  not  gib  dere 
erran'.     Nanny,  you  see  dis  pusson  ? " 

George  wtis  crouching  in  his  chair,  stuffing  a 
big  yellow  and  orange  handkerchief  into  his 
mouth,  because,  as  he  said,  "  Li-zay  was  de  beat- 
est  one." 

"  She  says  you  might  come  in,  an'  I  spose  you 
can ;  but,  George,  I  reckon  you  an'  me  had 
better  be  gwine," 

As  Gilbert  slipped  through  the  front-door, 
George  and  Eliza  glided  like  shadows  out  of 
the  back-door. 

Nanny  rose  to  receive  her  visitor.  As  lie 
entered,  he  gave  one  of  those  circumnavigating 
looks  that  seemed  to  go  all  round  the  room  and 
make  an  ins23ection  of  every  thing  at  once,  looking 
under  the  table  as  w^ell  as  over  it,  back  of  the 
clock  as  well  as  in  front  of  it,  into  the  shadowy 
corners,  and  almost  up  the  chimney.  This  im- 
pression perhaps  was  owing  to  his  eyes,  which 
were  very  large,  and  of  a  very  light  blue,  rolling 
round   in  ample  spaces  of  white,  and  seeming 

to   be  forever  on  the  turn.     His  featui-es  were 
10 


144       Drummer-Boy  of  the  Rappahannock. 

clear-cut  and  regular  also,  excepting  bis  nose, 
which  M^as  sharp  and  prominent  and  one-sided. 
His  face  was  partially  concealed  by  his  mus- 
tache and  side-whiskers.  These,  with  his  retreat- 
ing forehead  and  prominent  nose,  gave  his  face 
an  appearance  somewhat  fox-like — or  rat-like, 
rather.  Gilbert  French  would  have  been  a 
noticeable  man  in  a  crowd  on  account  of  his 
very  tall,  erect  form,  of  which  he  was  proud, 
and  those  piercing,  devouring  eyes  that  seemed 
to  say,  "  I  am  a  villain,"  or  else  on  the  road  to 
be  one.     And  yet  that  was  not  his  reputation 

amono;  his  neighbors  generallv.     He  was  consid- 
er O  O  ./ 

ered  to  be  a  smart,  enterprising  young  man  ; 
sharp  at  a  bargain,  it  is  true,  but,  though  he  had 
been  known  to  squeeze  some  poor  debtors  be- 
tween the  mill-stones  of  the  law,  yet  by  many 
in  the  community  he  was  regarded  quite  favor- 
ably. He  "kej^t  a  store,"  and  it  was  supposed 
that  he  speculated  in  railroad  and  manufactur- 
ing stocks.  There  was  the  distillery  at  the 
Port,  which  he  was  said  to  own.  As  he  drove 
a  smart  horse,  dressed  well,  and  seemed  to  have 
plenty  of  funds,  it  was  reported  that  he  was 
"making  money  fast."  He  had  a  joke  and  a 
smile  for  every  body — whom  he  wished  to  smile 
upon  and  joke  with  ;  for  Gilbert  was  that  kind 
of  an  individual  who  could  put  his  wrath  under 


Gilbert  Makes  a  Call.  145 

lock  and  key,  and  kiss  the  feet  of  a  superior 
who  may  have  insulted  him,  and  tlien  he  would 
flame  out  like  a  volcano  at  an  inferior  who  had 
provoked  him,  and  whom  he  wished  in  turn  to 
insult.  By  artful  management  he  had  con- 
trived to  vault  into  several  town-offices,  and  was 
prepared  to  make  these  a  stool  on  which  to  stand 
and  thence  to  jump  up  to  something  higher.  He 
had  been  imprudently  trusted  by  Captain  Fryc 
who  not  only  owed  Gilbert,  but  he  had  handed 
to  him  certain  family  funds  for  investment,  and 
found  it  difficult  to  get  any  account  of  these 
from  Gilbert.  Nanny  knew  this,  but  it  did  not 
annoy  her  so  much  as  the  fact  that  Gilbert 
French  was  most  persistent  in  many  things  de- 
signed as  personal  attentions  from  him,  and  yet 
most  disagreeable  intrusions  to  her.  To-night 
she  felt  so  lonely  that  she  had  no  heart  to  turn 
from  even  a  dog  that  cared  to  see  her ;  and,  with- 
out thinking,  allowed  Gilbert  to  come  in,  when 
ordinarily  she  would  have  declined  to  see  him. 

Gilbert  ran  his  hand  through  his  locks,  or 
where  locks  may  generally  be  found,  for  his 
own  hair  was  short  and  scant.  At  the  same 
time  his  eyes,  like  revolving  lights,  swept  the 
four  walls  of  the  room. 

"  It  must  be  lonely  for  you  here,  Nanny." 

*'  Very." 


1 46      Drummer-Boy  of  the  Rappahannock. 

"  The  captaiu  was  a  nice  man,  and  we  all  miss 
him." 

Nanny  sighed.  There  was  no  conversation  for 
a  minute,  as  Gilbert  found  it  difficult  to  rake 
together  material  appropriate  to  the  occasion. 
He  had  a  tongue,  though,  tliat  was  not  like  a 
wheel  in  a  tide-mill,  sure  to  run  only  at  certain 
hours  of  the  day.  He  looked  round  the  room, 
and  then  with  his  big  lusterless  eyes  devoured 
the  bowed  figure  in  the  chair. 

"'Ahem!"  Gilbert  was  clearing  his  tlii-oat. 
"  I  am  an  old  friend,  ]S[anny,"  he  said,  affection- 
ately, "  and  at  this  time  when  you  must — need 
— help,  if  I  can  be  of  service  I  should  consider  it 
a  great  pleasure  to — render  any — aid — der.  Have 
you  made  your  plans  beyond  the  summer?  " 

"  Only  to  stay  here,  for  the  present,  at  least. 
Aunt  Huldah  cannot  leave.  Forrest  seemed  to 
think  it  would  be  best." 

"  May  be ;  but  Forrest  is  young  and  without 
experience,  and  his  judgment  not  matured." 

Nanny  was  not  the  person  to  quietly  see  an 
absent  friend  struck  in  the  back. 

"Father  used  to  say  that  he  thought  Forrest  had 
a  ver}^  good  head  for  his  years,  and  I  know  so." 

Gilbert  turned  his  face  toward  the  clock,  and 
treated  it  to  a  most  sarcastic,  sinister  leer.  It 
was  a  way  that  he  had  of  relieving  himself  of 


Gilbert  Makes  a  Call.  147 

any  feelings  he  did  not  care  to  manifest.  He 
would  make  up  such  a  face  at  a  stone  wall,  if 
talking  with  a  person  in  the  road,  or,  it  raiglit 
be,  at  a  barn.  The  clock  did  not  change  coun- 
tenance, but  only  went,  with  great  sobriety, 
"  Tick,  tick !  tick,  tick !  " 

"  Yes,  you  must  be  lonely,"  said  Gilbert,  re- 
turning to  the  first  subject  of  conversation,  and 
putting  all  the  sympathy  he  could  into  his  voice. 
Tliere  was  a  long  silence. 

"  Nanny,"  he  said  at  last,  slowly,  and  in  a 
tone  designed  to  be  impressive  and  tender, 
"  Nanny— dear— "  She  felt  like  rushing  out  of 
doors,  but  she  restrained  herself,  and  he  went  on. 
"  You  must  have  been  very  lonely,  and  I — can 
see  that  you — will  be.  You  must  have  been 
aware  for  some  time — that  I  have  been — very 
much  interested  in  you  as  I  could  be  in  no- 
other — woman." 

Here  his  arm  went  out  toward  Nanny,  and 
in  another  moment  lie  would  have  extended  it 
about  her.  She  shrank  from  him  as  if  he  had 
been  a  snake  approaching.  He  saw  it  and 
desisted.  He  had  intended  to  say  something 
else,  but  he  instinctively  felt  tliat  it  would  not 
be  prudent,  and  he  remained  silent.  "  I  mnst 
go,"  he  said,  and  rose  from  his  chair.  Nanny 
rose  also ;  it  was  her  turn  to  say  something. 


148     Drummer- Boy  of  the  Rappahannock. 

"  Mr.  French,  there  should  be  a  fair  under- 
standing between  us.  I  wish  to  be  considered 
your  friend,  but  I  can  encourage  nothing  further. 
I  have  told  you  by  ray  actions  that  I  could  not 
accept  any  attentions  from  you.  Perhaps  I 
should  have  said  it  in  so  many  words,  but  until 
there  was  an  absolute  necessity  for  it,  I  wished 
to  avoid  it.  Now  I  must  speak,  and  openly  and 
plainly  say  that  you  and  I  can  only  be  friends." 

There  she  stood  before  the  tire,  her  lips  com- 
pressed, a  resolute  look  flashing  out  of  her  eyes. 
People  said  that  Nanny  Frye,  when  aroused  by 
any  emergency,  would  be  called  exceedingly 
handsome.  She  certainly  seemed  so  to  Gilbert 
French  that  evening.  The  very  decided  tone  of 
her  words  changed  Gilbert  French's  bearing. 
He  laid  aside  the  soft  tones  and  smirking  face, 
like  a  reptile  that  throws  off  a  skin  masking  it, 
showing  now  its  real  character  as  it  protrudes  its 
hideous  features  and  darts  its  fangs. 

"Miss  Nanny,"  whispered  Gilbert,  "you  may 
wish  you  had  never  said  this." 

He  turned  about  nimbly  as  a  snake  on  its  tail, 
seized  his  hat,  and  was  leaving  the  room,  when 
he  exclaimed : 

"  O,  let  me  see !  I  had  not  mentioned  one 
thing." 

He  hissed  out  this  astonishing  statement : 


Gilbert  Makes  a  Call.  149 

"You  think  you  are  very  nice  down  here; 
that  your  father  was  above  wrong,  and  Forrest 
is  a  nice  young  specimen  to  send  or  to  think  of 
sending  to  the  war ;  but  I  charge  Forrest — " 

His  voice  rose  as  he  spoke,  till  he  now  shrieked 
out  the  words,  "  with  being — a — thief ! " 

He  waited  to  see  the  eflE ect  of  his  charge  upon 
Nanny. 

She  quietly  said,  "  A  thief  ?     Never  ! '' 

"  O,  it  is  easy  to  say  'never !'  but  it  is  another 
thing  to  prove  '  never  ! '  " 

"  Well,  what  is  your  charge  ?  " 

"  My  charge  is  this  :  that  I  had  some  money 
— some  of  it  on  the  National  Bank,  Drewville, 
and  Forrest  kept  it  till  spent  in  Skipper  Bow- 
ser's boat-shop,  and  then  pretended  to  have 
found  it  there,  and  suddenly  lost  it.  The  wind 
blew  it  out  of  the  window !  That's  likely ! 
No ;  it  was  my  money,  and.  Miss  Frye,  I  mean 
to  have  it — and  the  thief,  too." 

Gilbert  Frenah  here  leaned  forward  and  pro- 
jected his  long  body  in  the  direction  of  Nanny 
as  if  he  were  throwing  a  lance  at  her.  Nanny 
trembled,  and  her  face  was  flushed  with  strange 
excitement,  but  she  controlled  her  voice. 

"  Strange  this  story  should  just  break  out ! 
Forrest  has  been  about  home  all  this  time,  and 
we  have  heard  notliing  about  the  slander." 


150    Drummer-Boy  of  the  Rappahannock. 

"  Slander !  Too  imicli  truth  in  it  to  be  slan- 
der. As  for  the  breaking  out,  small-pox  don't 
break  out  in  a  daj.  May  be  in  the  system  some 
time,  and  then  comes  to  the  surface.  Miss 
Frye,  it  is  a  plain  case,  to  my  mind.  Forrest 
expected  to  go  off  and  wanted  some  money,  and 
helped  himself  to  my  pile.  Of  that  pile,  some 
was  on  a  Drewvnlle  bank,  and  Forrest  told  some- 
body the  money  he  found  in  the  skipper's 
shop  was  on  that  bank.  You  see,  he  knew  he 
would  be  followed  some  time,  and  have  to  ac- 
count for  the  theft,  and  so  having  spent — it — 
he  got  np  that  story  about  the  bank-bills  in  tlie 
skipper's  shop — frightened,  you  see ;  that's  the 
way  of  it,  and  as  nobody  could  deny  it  he  could 
say,  when  I  missed  the  money  and  made  a  fuss 
about  it,  that  a  thief  brought  it  to  the  skipper's 
shop,  and  left  it  there." 

"  That  is  a  likely  story  !  " 

"  But  it  was  on  the  Drewville  bank,  like  mine, 
and  Forrest  at  my  store,  two  days  before,  saw 
me  handling  it — " 

"What  if  he  did?" 

"Well,  miss,  tliat's  a  s'picions  thing — and 
you'll  find  it  out.  Forrest  said,  on  the  top  of 
the  money  he  found  was  a  ten-dollar  bill  on  the 
Drewville  bank,  and  that  is  mine ;  yes — " 

Here  Nanny  was  startled  by  a  voice  in  her  rear. 


Gilbert  Makes  a  Call.  151 

"  I  liave  a  word  to  say  about  tliat." 

Ill  stalked  Aunt  Huldah.  Tall,  gaunt,  grim, 
with  a  sharp,  black,  hawk-eye.  Aunt  Huldah 
was  sometimes  called  "half-Indian."  She  was 
a  half-sister  of  Captain  Frye,  and  from  a  differ- 
ent ancestral  source  some  qualities  had  streamed, 
into  her  make-up  which  were  wanting  in  the 
blacksmith.  In  some  way  she  had  overheard 
these  charges  against  Forrest,  for  whom  she  had 
been  pleased  to  develop  a  strange  liking.  She 
now  stepped  before  Gilbert,  who  was  once 
ranked  as  a  person  that  was  established  in  her 
good  graces. 

"And  what  are  j^ou  charging  theft  on  onr 
absent  boy  for — a  boy  who  has  set  you  an  ex- 
ample and  expects  to  go  to  the  war?  Why 
haven't  you  taken  him  before  this  time  when 
he  wants  to  enlist !  You  a-skulkin'  at  home 
when  you  should  be  at  the  war  1 " 

Here  Gilbert  laughed.  It  was  his  boast  that 
he  could  manage  Aunt  Huldah. 

"  Just  laff !  "  lie  would  say.  "  Don't  answer 
her!     Don't  mind  her !     Laff!" 

He  was  trying  his  old  method,  but  it  infuri- 
ated her. 

"  You — you — you,  making  these  charges  when 
you  ought  to  be  proving  them  !  As  if  it  proves 
that  I  am  a  thief  because  I  may  have  a  ten- 


152      Drummer-Boy  of  the  Rappahannock. 

dollar  bill  just  like  one  that  somebody  else  had, 
day  before  yesterday !  More  ten-dollar  bills 
than  one  in  the  world.     You — you — you — " 

Aunt  Huldah  could  find  no  words  hot  enough 
to  be  hitched  on  to  the  train  of  her  liery  pro- 
nouns. She  stood  indignantly  firing  them  off, 
"you — you — you,"  intensifying  her  shots  by 
pointing  with  her  long,  lean  hand  at  the  target. 

''  O  well,'-  said  Gilbert,  abruptly  turning  to- 
ward the  door  into  the  entry,  "  I  have  some  busi- 
ness at  the  Port  and  I  guess  I  will  be  going." 

He  did  not  realize  that  in  saying  this  he  was 
exposing  himself  to  a  fresh  fire  from  Aunt  Hul- 
dah's  guns.  She  drew  herself  up  to  her  full 
height.  Slie  looked  more  Indian-like  than  ever. 
Her  eyes  flashed  more  sharply.  There  was  new 
vigor  to  that  gesture  of  one  long,  lean  hand 
directly,  intensely  pointing. 

"  Your  business  at  the  Port !  It's  a  distil- 
lery they  say  you're  running.  In  at  one  door, 
they  say,  the  big  carts  come  loaded  with  grain, 
and  out  at  another  go  forth  carts  with  barrels 
sold  to  the  saloons.  Men  and  women  work  hard 
to  get  money  for  clothing  and  food,  and  you 
tempt  them  to  drink  it  up  and  squander  it  away. 
Doctors  make  people  well,  and  you  make  them 
sick.  Police  officers  try  to  stop  evil,  and  you 
sell   rum   to   keep   evil   a-going.     Fathers   and 


Gilbert  Makes  a  Call.  153 

mothers  work  hard  to  make  liomes,  and  joii  try 
to  break  them  np.  The  Church  tries  toHft  men 
and  make  tliem  better,  and  jou  hold  them  down 
and  make  them  worse,  O,  it  is  an  awful  busi- 
ness you  arc  in  !  Didn't  I  see  that  old  building 
of  yourn  one  night  '\  The  moon  was  a-shining  on 
it,  a  sickly  yellow  light,  as  if  ashamed  of  it,  and 
I  could  see  the  tall  chimneys,  and  the  men  were 
at  work  that  night,  and  like  imps  they  were 
working  before  the  furnaces  and  a-feeding  the 
fires !  I  could  see  it !  And  I  saw  something  else, 
something  besides  that  pale,  sickly  yellow  light. 
I  saw  the  curse  of  God  on  it ;  yes,  the  curse  of 
God  on  its  tall  chinmeys,  on  the  old  leaky  roof, 
on  the  rough  shutters.  Yes,  you  are  in  a  mean, 
miserable  business.  You  are  in  partnership 
with  the  devil.  The  curse  of  God  is  on  you — 
on  you — " 

Here  Gilbert  began  to  withdraw  from  the 
room,  but  Aunt  Huldah  followed  him,  point- 
ing at  him  and  saying,  "  On  you — on  you — on 
you  !  " 

He  did  not  walk  but  ran  into  the  blackness. 
He  hurried  up  the  dark  road,  but  there  followed 
him  a  finger  pointing  and  a  voice  saying,  "On 
you — on  you  I  " 


154      Drummer-Boy  of  the  Rappahannock. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

A     SORRY     RECRUIT. 

VIIILE  Forrest  was  absent,  what  had  he 
learned  about  enlisting?  When  the  war 
opened,  recruits  were  mustered  into  the  army 
amid  surronndings  very  flattering  to  one's  pride. 
It  might  be  at  a  big,  thrilling  war-meeting  that 
one  would  give  his  name  as  that  of  a  sacrifice 
on  his  country's  altar.  He  went  away  envied 
by  tlie  small  boys,  admired  by  the  maidens,  and 
in  his  own  eyes  a  hero  and  the  deliverer  of  his 
country  before  he  had  fired  a  gun  or  even 
touched  it.  Forrest  had  no  such  opportunity. 
.  It  was  now  the  second  year  of  the  war.  There 
W**  was  no  big  war-meeting  to  dismiss  Forrest  from 
its  presence  into  an  atmosphere  of  earthly  glory. 
There  was  just  a  dingy  recruiting-office  at  the 
Port.  Only  a  recruiting  -  officer  was  there. 
Forrest  wished  to  ascertain  from  him  certain 
preliminaries  to  enlisting,  and  in  a  few  weeks, 
when  the  farm-work  would  let  him  off  and  a 
"hired  man"  could  be  secured  for  a  day  now 
and  then  to  do  all  that  was  needed,  then  For- 


A  Sony  Jxecrtdt.  155 

rest  expected  to  pass  into  Uncle  Sam's  service. 
Tins  preliminary  meeting  with  tlie  recruiting- 
officer  Lad  a  value.  Forrest  would  find  out 
fully  about  a  soldier's  equipments,  information 
in  which  Nanny  was  interested.  Would  he  go 
"to  the  front"  very  soon,  or  in  a  camp  for  re- 
cruits would  he  be  likely  to  stay  into  autumn  ? 
What  was  expected  of  drummers  ?  and  so  on. 
Forrest  had  laid  out  his  work  systematically 
and  had  prepared  a  list  of  questions  set  down 
on  a  slip  of  paper  in  due  order.  Nanny  had 
specially  examined  Forrest's  wardrobe  for  this 
occasion.  She  had  made  him  a  white  and  blue 
neck-tie,  and  then,  carefully  adjusting  its  ends, 
she  stood  off  and  inspected  him.  Forrest  looked 
very  brilliant  that  day,  and  Nanny's  beautiful 
hazel  eyes  brightened  as  she  gazed  at  him,  and 
these  told  more  than  her  voice  confessed. 

"There,  Forrest,  I  think  you  will  do;  your 
neck-tie  looks — very  well." 

So  she  continued  to  stand  off  and  contemplate 
that  neck-tie.  Not  a  word  more  did  she  say, 
but  her  eyes  confessed  her  admiration. 

"  All  right,  old  lady  I  If  I  have  passed  mus- 
ter, then  I  will  go." 

"  I  expect  that  neck-tie  will  make  an  impres- 
sion on  the  officer  who  is  .recruiting — " 

"  And  not  the  wearer,  Nanny  ? " 


156        Drummer-Boy  of  the  Rappahannock. 

"  O  jes.  of  course ;  onlj  don't  let  liiin  make 
you  sign  the  papers  to-dav.  Tell  liini  jou  want 
to  ask  some  questions.     That  is  all." 

"  Aye,  aye  !  "  cried  the  drummer-boy. 

"Now  look  out,  Forrest!  I  expect  he  will 
hang  on  to  you." 

Forrest's  neck-tie  was  not  the  only  thing  re- 
ceiving attention. 

"I'll  polish  my  boots  extra,"  tlionght  For- 
rest. '-In  the  army,  I  believe,  officers  like  to 
see  the  soldiers  attend  to  such  things.  That 
recruiting-officer  shall  see  that  I  know  what  i 


18 


what." 

Forrest  wrapped  the  blacking-brush  in  a  piece 
of  brown  paper  and  stuck  it  in  liis  pocket. 

"When  I  get  up  to  the  Port,"  he  said,  "I 
will  give  my  boots  an  extra  rub.  llo,  ho!  I 
am  the  soldier  for  them — neat  and  tidy,  ready 
for  dress-parade  any  time." 

After  he  had  left  Nann}^  and  m\is  fairly 
started  on  the  road  to  the  Port,  Forrest  met 
Skipper  Bowser  coming  home  in  his  family 
chariot. 

"  Bound  off,  Forrest  ? "  cried  the  skipper,  in 
his  social  way.  "  Look  as  if  ye  had  jest  come 
out  of  the  band-box." 

"Only  going  up  to.  the  Port  to  make  some 
inquiries  about  enlisting.     Just  getting  ready, 


A  Sorry  Recruit.  157 

yon  know.  Going  to  sign  pretty  soon,  for  the 
farm  work  is  almost  where  I  can  leave  it." 

"  Good  luck !  I  expect  they  will  grab  you 
and  hold  on  tight  and  make  a  soldier  of  you  at 
once.  Shouldn't  mind  it  if  I  was  a-goin'  with 
you.     I'd  like  to  free  one  darky." 

The  Bowser  cliariot  rolled  on,  and  Forrest 
walked  off. 

In  the  walk  to  the  Port  nothing  moment- 
ous occurred.  Forrest  wondered  if  people  knew 
that  a  candidate  for  the  army  had  arrived,  and 
in  tliis  conviction  his  bosom  seemed  to  swell  too 
large  for  his  coat.  Having  polished  anew  his 
boots  he  entered  the  little  recruiting-office  and 
accosted  an  army  captain  who  sat  there  alone. 

"  I — called  to  see — about  enlisting,"  said  For- 
rest in  his  prompt,  animated  way,  "about  en- 
listing as  a  drummer-boy," 

"Your  friends  willing?"  replied  the  officer 
very  graciously,  delighted  to  have  a  little  busi- 
ness come  in. 

"Certainly,  sir.  I  haven't  any  parents  living 
that  I  know  of,  and  the  gentleman  I  have  lived 
with,  Captain  Frye,  down  the  river,  is  dead  now, 
and  really  I  am  about  the  only  person  to  settle 
it." 

"  O,  you  come  from  this  town  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir." 


158     Drummer- Bo  1/  of  the  Rappahannock^ 

"  What  name  ?  " 

"  Forrest  Hooper." 

*' What  did  you  say?" 

"  Forrest  Hooper,  sir." 

The  officer's  face  changed  expression.  His 
voice  changed  too.  The  smile  went  out  of  the 
face  and  the  cordial  tone  vanished  from  his 
voice.  There  was  a  pause  in  the  conversation. 
Forrest  felt  a  chill  in  the  atmosphere  of  the 
interview  at  once.  He  felt  a  "  something," 
though  he  w^as  not  conscious  of  its  nature. 

"  Well,  young  man,  I — I  don't  know.  You 
are  aware  that  we  want  men  wdio  will  be  reliable, 
whom  we  can  trust,  who  will  be  good  as  their 
word,  who  will  introduce  no  bad  morals  into  the 
army,  who — " 

"  What's  he  driving  at?"  was  Forrest's  aston- 
ished, silent  question. 

•  The  officer-  continued,  though  embarrassed 
and  stammering  now:  "One  who — who — will 
have  hands  that  can  be  kept  off  from  another's 
property — " 

"  What — what  do  you  mean  ? "  asked  the  as- 
tonished Forrest. 

"Well,  sir,  I  know  some  recruiting-officers 
take  men  they  know  to  be  unfit,  but  I  am  not 
going  to  let  any  such  scallawags  run  my  gaunt- 
let—" 


A  Sorry  Recruit.  159 

"I  am  not  a  scallawag,"  said  Forrest  indig- 
nantly. 

''  I  didn't  say  you  were  ;  only — isn't  your  name 
Forrest  Hooper?" 

"  Why,  yes,  sir!  Sometimes  I  am  called  For- 
rest Frye,  after  the  man  I  have  lived  with,  but 
my  real  name  is  Hooper." 

"  That  is  it !  I  guess  you  are  the  hoy.  Well 
—well—" 

He  stopped,  and  began  again. 

"I  don't  like  to  say  it  to  your  face,  but  it  is 
a-going  round  behind  your  back — " 

Her«  Forrest's  heart  beat  perceptibly  quicker. 
The  officer,  w^io  was  again  pausing,  now  started 
on. 

"And— and  you  had  better  know  it.  A  man 
called  here  and  told  me  there  is  some  charge 
against  you  for  stealing — " 

"Fur  what,  sir?"  broke  out  the  surprised 
Forrest.  "  I  don't  know  any  thing  about  your 
stealing !  " 

"  Of  course,  you  don't.  It's  not  my  stealinor 
hut' yours,  sir." 

And  the  officer  gave  his  head  a  toss.  He  was 
a  man  with  a  long  sandy  beard,  and  while  he 
had  an  abundance  of  hair  on  his  chin  he  had 
very  little  on  top  of  his  head.  Forrest  remem- 
bered him  as  "the  sandy-bearded  and  bald- 
11 


160     Drwmncfr-Boy  of  the  Rappahannoclc. 

headed  man."  He  learned  somewliere  that  liis 
name  was  Captain  Peirce. 

"  No,  sir,"  said  Forrest  indignantly  ;  "  and 
3^011  sha'n't  say  it  is  mine  !  " 

Tlie  officer  rather  liked  this  in  Forrest,  and 
lie  spoke  not  quite  so  offensively.  "  I  don't 
make  any  charge  against  you.  I  said  a  man 
called  here  and  told  rae  there  was  some  chai-ge 
against  you  for  stealing." 

"  There  is  none,  sir.  "Who  dared  say  there 
Avas?" 

"I  forget  his  name.  After  lie  left  here  he 
went  into  that  building — a  distillery,  I  think." 

The  officer  pointed  out  a  big,  black,  shabby 
building. 

"  Just  the  place  a  man  talking  that  way  w^ould 
be  likely  to  go  into — or  else  come  out  of,"  said 
Forrest.     "  It  is  a  lie." 

The  officer  laughed.  He  tipped  back  his 
head,  elevating  his  beard  as  if  it  were  a  shovel, 
and  said,  "Haw — haw!"  This  shovel-move- 
ment he  relocated,  laughing  again,  and  said, 
"  Pretty  good  !  " 

"  Yes,"  asserted  Forrest,  "  that  is  what  they 
make  in  distilleries :  lies,  fights,  murders." 

The  officer  again  said,  "  Pretty  good  !  " 

"  O  I  know  now  who  must  have  told  you  !  for 
no  other  person  round  my  way  lias  any  thing  to 


A  Sorry  Recruit.  161 

do  with  distilleries.  It  must  liave  been  Gilbert 
French." 

"  Gilbert  French?     Don't  know  his  name." 

"  Was  he  rather  tall,  a  youngish  man,  with  a 
kind  of  sharp  face — as  if  it  might  go  through  you 
like  a  buzz-saw  if  it  got  to  revolving  ?  " 

"  Pretty  good  !  Guess  that  is  the  man,"  said 
the  oflScer,  who  was  pleased  to  see  the  young 
man's  readiness  in  defending  himself  and  detect- 
ing his  enemies.  "  Well,  now,  you  hunt  up  that 
slander,  if  it  be  such,  and  you  clap  it  into  its 
cotiin  quick.  You  see,  this  fellow  said  the  mat- 
ter might  get  into  court,  and  said  of  course  I 
didn't  want  to  have  that  bother  with  a  recruit. 
I  told  him,  No.  I  didn't  want  a  case  that  was 
in  court  on  my  hands." 

"  A  case  in  court !  I  don't  know  what  he 
means." 

"  Well,  you  just  hunt  the  thing  up,  and  then 
come  and  see  me." 

Forrest  went  off  fuming.  It  was  now  sunset. 
He  had  not  intended  to  go  home  that  night,  for 
lie  was  tired,  and  a  cousin  of  Captain  Frye's  was 
always  glad  to  keep  any  of  the  household  over 
night  when  they  wished  to  remain  at  the  Port, 
and  Forrest  had  purposed  to  go  there. 

"  ISTo,"  thought  Forrest,  "  I  am  going  home. 
I  want  to  get  there  soon  as  I  can   and   know 


162     Drummer -Boy  of  the  Rappahannock. 

what  this  thing  is  that  Gilbert  French  is  repoi-t- 
ing." 

He  left  the  recruiting-office  in  a  mood  very 
different  from  that  in  which  he  entered  it.  He 
did  not  wonder  now  if  the  people  realized  that 
a  candidate  for  the  army  had  entered  their  vil- 
lage. He  avoided  every  body.  He  saw  the 
old  distillery,  and  the  red  furnace  fires  glowing 
through  a  window,  and  he  moved  away  as  if 
they  were  burning  him.  Turning  from  the  distil- 
lery, he  almost  ran  into  the  court-house,  an  insti- 
tution which  for  convenience'  sake  might  fittingly 
be  located  next  to  saloons  and  distilleries. 

"I  hate  you.,  too,"  said  Forrest,  avoiding  the 
court-house. 

As  he  turned  away,  he  carelessly  stepped  into  a 
puddle  of  water,  and  the  polish  on  those  sinning 
boots  was  ruined. 

"  Don't  care  how  they  look  now,"  said  For- 
rest, and  he  tramped  through  another  puddle 
fiercely. 

The  brilliant  light  had  gone  out  of  the  sky 
above  the  western  hills,  and  so  out  of  Forrest's 
dreams  of  war-glory  had  faded  all  the  luster 
and  coloring  exciting  his  imagination.  What 
about  the  injustice  of  slavery  occasioning  the 
war? 

"  Somebody  is  unjust  to  me,"  he  was  saying. 


A  tSorrij  Recruit.  163 

The  poor  black  did  not  seem  to  have  a  cause 
worthy  of  so  much  attention  now  that  there 
was  an  attempt  to  overwhelm  Forrest  Hooper 
with  a  very  scandalous  iniquity.  His  cheeks 
burned  with  indignation.  He  was  glad  when 
he  saw  ahead  a  long  strip  of  woods  lining  the 
road  just  outside  of  the  Port.  In  those  dark 
shadows  the  world  could  not  see  that  flushed 
face,  and  in  their  cool  depths  the  heat  would 
go  down. 

Hark !  He  heard  the  sharp,  echoing  rattle 
of  cai-riage-wheels  coming  through  the  woods. 

*'  Who's  that  ?  "  wondered  Forrest.  As  he 
neared  the  vehicle  he  was  glad  the  light  was 
too  scanty  to  reveal  his  identity,  for  he  did  not 
care  to  address  or  be  addressed  by  any  one. 
But  the  being  in  this  vehicle  was  of  a  social 
.  turn.  He  sang  out  in  tones  that  sounded  famil- 
iar, "  Good-night !  " 

"  If  that  isn't  the  skipper ! "  thought  Forrest, 
dropping  his  head  and  silently  hurrying  away. 
"Lucky  escape!  Afraid  he  would  say  some- 
thing like  what  he  did  this  morning :  '  I  ex- 
pected they  would  grab  you  and  hold  on  tight 
and  make  a  soldier  of  you  at  once.'  JSTonsense  1 
The  officer  didn't  want  to  hold  on  to  a  thief." 

The  next  minute  Forrest  was  sorry  he  had 
foolishly  passed  the  skipper  that  way. 


164     Drummer- Boy  of  tlie  Rappahannock. 

"  Why,"  lie  said,  "  the  skipper  is  one  of  my 
best  friends.  Besides,  I  have  done  nothing  to 
be  ashamed  of.  I  have  not  stolen  any  tiling.  1 
can  hold  up  my  head  as  high  as  any  body.  I 
have  a  great  mind  to  run  after  the  skipper  and 
tell  him  all,  and  say,  any  way,  who  passed  him." 

The  skipper,  though,  had  started  up  his  horse, 
and  Forrest  recalled  an  occasion  when  "Old 
Billy  "  went  at  a  disagreeable  speed,  and  it  might 
be  so  now. 

"  Guess  I  won't  try  it,"  Forrest  concluded. 
"  Sorry,  though,  I  didn't  speak  to  him." 

He  was  to  be  still  more  sorry.  Gilbert 
French's  store  was  the  first  place  Forrest  pro- 
posed to  visit  on  his  return  journey. 

"  I  will  see  him  at  once,  and  ask  him  if  he 
made  any  charges  before  that  officer  and  what 
they  were.  I'll  put  my  foot  on  this  thing  at 
once,"  said  the  would-be  recruit,  resolutely. 

When,  after  a  long,  wearisome  walk,  he  ar- 
rived at  Gilbert  French's  store,  Gilbert,  as  the 
rest  of  us  know,  was  somewhere  else. 

"  That's  too  bad  ! "  exclaimed  Forrest,  looking 
up  at  the  dark  front  of  Gilbert's  store.  "  Won- 
der where  he  is  ? "  He  went  away  feeling  badly. 
He  would  have  felt  worse  if  he  had  known  just 
where  Gilbert  was. 

He    had   gone    out   of   his   way  to  see  that 


A   Sorry  Recruit.  105 

black  store-front,  and  now,  in  order  to  get  home 
as  soon  as  possible,  lie  "took  a  short  cut" 
through  the  woods,  and  short  cuts  are  some- 
times the  most  troublesome  and  virtually  the 
longest  routes.  Through  thick,  tangled  under- 
growth, over  ledgy  fields,  through  boggy  tracts, 
he  went  resolutely,  persistently,  laboriously, 
saying  all  the  time,  "This  is  a  straight  line 
home." 

Once  he  tumbled.  When  he  was  rising,  some 
kind  of  a  lugubrious  bird  screamed,  overhead. 
It  sounded  Hke,  "  Thief  !  " 
"  You  villain !  "  cried  Forrest. 
This  was  in  a  rocky  pasture.  The  next  tract 
was  a  locality  where  a  lot  of  pine-trees  had  been 
burned  down. 

"Is  that  any  body?"  he  wondered,  seeing 
something  black  before  him.  Was  it  Gilbert 
French  ?  Forrest  rushed  at  it  only  to  feel  un- 
der his  hands  a  charred  trunk  that  the  fire  had 
left  behind.  Heated,  the  perspiration  stream- 
ing  down  his  face,  he  carelessly,  thoughtlessly 
pnt  up  his  hand  to  wipe  off  the  annoying  drops. 
Then  he  went  on  again. 

"There  is  Nanny's  light!"  he  exclaimed, 
joyfully. 

Yes,  heated,  tired,  dejected,  worried,  he 
greeted  it  as  he  came  ont  into  the  open  grounds 


166      Dnmimer-Boy  of  the  Rappahannock. 

about  the  house,  even  as  tlie  sailor,  turning  from 
a  roughly  tossing  sea  into  a  quiet  haven,  catches 
joyfully  the  flash  of  the  old  harbor-lights.  He 
stopped  at  the  window  a  moment  and  looked  in. 
Nanny  was  there,  and  had  just  laid  a  pine  knot 
on  the  open  fire.  The  flames  bursting  up 
strong  and  ruddy  threw  a  sharp  glare  upon  the 
window,  and  amid  this  Xanny  saw  under  a  bat- 
tered hat,  a  face  half-black,  anxious,  staring — 
why,  whose  was  it  ? 

"  Ugh ! "  she  screamed,  and  ran  out  of  the  room. 
"Who  was  it?  Gilbert  French  coming  back  to 
frighten  her  ?  Or  was  it  George,  who  had  be- 
come half-white  through  some  chemical  bath  or 
stroke  of  magic  ? 

"I'll  fasten  the  doors,  any  way,"  concluded 
Nanny,  flying  first  to  the  door  nearest  the  win- 
dow that  had  framed  that  spectral  half-white 
face.  She  not  only  locked  but  bolted  this. 
Then  she  locked  and  hooked  a  door  on  the  op- 
posite side  of  the  house,  and  opening  upon  a 
green,  gently  sloping  grass-plot.  The  front  door 
was  secured  by  a  lock  and  a  bolt  and  an  old- 
fashioned  device  of  a  stout  bar  that  went  from 
side  to  side  of  the  door-way.  Nanny  made  sure 
of  all  these  fastenings.  She  was  going  from 
window  to  window  securing  these  when  she 
heard   a  suspicious    noise    outside   the   kitchen 


•  A  Sorry  Recruit.  167 

pantrj  window.  This  could  be  reached  by  the 
roof  of  a  low  shed  in  the  rear  of  the  house. 

"O  dear !"  thought  ISTanny.  "He'll  get  in 
there — no,  he  can't !  I  fastened  that  window 
after  supper.     I've  headed  off  the  scamp," 

Then  she  heard  an  attempt  to  reach  a  window 
in  the  scullery.  Matters  now  looked  serious. 
"  How  I  wish  Forrest  was  here  to  help ! " 
thought  N'anny.  She  ran  up  to  Aunt  Huldah's 
room. 

'•  Aunt  Huldah,  there's  a  man — and  I  can't 
tell  whether  he's  white  or  black,  whether  he's 
Gilbert  French  or  George — and  he's  trying  to 
get  in — " 

"  Massy  !  "  said  Aunt  Huldah,  seizing  a  long 
iron  poker  from  her  fire-place,  and  then  rushing 
down  the  back-stairs. 

Aunt  Huldah  was  not  deficient  in  courage, 
and  Nanny  knew  it,  and  she  welcomed  this 
fierce  ally. 

"Which  way  is  he  coming  in?"  asked  Aunt 
Huldah,  her  sharp,  black  eyes  glaring. 

"  O — I — I  don't  know,"  replied  I^^Tanny,  grip- 
ping a  broom-handle.  "  Every-where,  it  seems 
to  me !     All  round  !  " 

"He  shall  taste  of  tliis!"  grimly  declared 
Aunt  Huldah,  boldly  proffering  the  poker  as  if 
a  long  stick  of  candy  to  be  sampled  at  once. 


168     Drummer- Boy  of  the  RcqjpahaiMock. 

"  Hark  I  "  said  Nanny. 

The  two  determined  members  of  this  female 
home-guard  were  now  passing  through  a  lit- 
tle entry  leading  to  the  door  near  the  window 
where  Nanny  first  saw  that  face  half  white,  half 
black. 

"  Hark  !  "  said  Nanny. 

A  most  pitiful  voice  was  now  heard  at  the 
key-hole  of  the  door,  saying,  "  Nanny,  Nanny, 
why  don't  you  let  a  feller  in  ? " 

"  O  get  a  light !  "  excitedly  said  Nanny,  who 
herself  was  getting  a  ray  of  a  hint  upon  the  true 
nature  of  the  intruder.  "I'll  get  one  myself. 
Aunt  fluldah !  I  half  think  it  may  be — dear 
me  !     O  dear  !  " 

"AVho?" 

Nannj^  did  not  say,  but  while  running  to  the 
light  in  the  kitchen  and  then  back  to  that  door, 
she  kept  up  a  thinking  at  the  rate  of  two  hun- 
dred words  a  minute.  She  then  began  to  take 
the  door  out  of  its  fastenings. 

"  Careful,  Nanny  !  "  warned  Aunt  Huldah, 
standing  back  just  far  enougli  to  make  sure  of  a 
good  vigorous  sweep  w^ith  that  long  poker  the 
moment  the  intruder  was  seen. 

"  Careful !  "  she  warned  again.  "  I  did  begin 
to  think  it  was  a  dog ;  a  big,  mad  one !  " 

It  was,  though,  no  dog  whining  at  the  key- 


A  Sorry  Recruit.  169 

hole,  but  a  discouraged  mortal  calling  out  again 
dolefully,  "  Nainiy,  it's—" 

Nanny  threw  back  the  door  and  there  stood 
Forrest,  his  clothes  besmirched  all  over,  those 
boots  coated  with  swamp-mud,  that  neck-tie  any 
thing  but  tied,  the  long  ends  loose  and  flapping ; 
while  Forrest's  face  looked  as  if  he  had  been 
wiping  it  with  a  charcoal-bag.  And  such  an 
expression ! 

"  Why,  Forrest  Hooper,  where  did  you  come 
from  ?  You  poor  fellow,  come  in  I "  said 
Nanny. 

As  for  Aunt  Huldah,  the  breath  seemed  to 
have  almost  left  her,  for  in  the  most  doleful 
and  penitent  way,  she  was  mumbling  the  words, 
"  Poor — poor  Forrest !  " 

"  Well,"  said  Forrest,  nervously,  '-'this— this, 
is  a  qneer  reception.  I — I  suppose  you  didn't 
expect  me." 

"Expect  you?  Why,  I  thought  you  were 
at  the  Port;  and  by  this  time  a  tired  soldier 
ought  to  be  in  bed.  And  Forrest,  see  here! 
What  have  you  been  doing  ?  Where  have  you 
been?  Why  didn't  you  tell  me  that  you  were 
coming  ? "  asked  Nanny. 

All  this  time  Aunt  Huldah  was  murmurino;, 
"  Poor — poor  Forrest !  " 

"  Well,  Nanny,  I  couldn't  let  you  know  about 


170      Drmmner-Boy  of  the  Rappaliannoch. 

it.  I  didn't  exi^ect  myself  to  come.  Bat  you 
see — " 

"  Well,  stop  just  a  moment — of  course,  I  am 
awful  sorry — but  where  have  you  been  ?  Too 
bad !  " 

"  Why  I  -took  a  short  cut—" 

"But  just  look  in  the  glass  one  moment." 

Nanny  held  up  a  light  and  Forrest  looked  in 
the  glass  a  single  mom-ent.  What  he  saw  there 
he  never  could  have  recognized  as  Forrest 
Hooper,  intimately  as  he  knew  that  individual. 
When  he  handled  that  charred  stump  in  the 
burned  tract,  he  took  away  a  black  face-powder. 
He  began  to  laugh.  There  was  in  the  young 
man  an  elasticity  of  temperament  too  great  to 
submit  long  to  the  pressure  of  any  present 
trouble.  The  more  he  thought  about  it,  tlie 
more  heartily  he  laughed.  Nanny  could  not  re- 
sist the  contagion.  Even  Aunt  Huldah  smiled, 
though  she  first  turned  her  back  on  Forrest, 
for  he  had  become  a  great  favorite  with  Aunt 
Huldah  and  she  did  not  want  to  wound  his 
feelings. 

"Well,  Forrest,  it  is  too  bad  to  have  kept 
you  outside ;  I  am  real  soi-ry,"  said  the  pitying 
Nanny,  "but  that  Gilbert  French  has  been 
here  and  stirred  us  up,  and  first  I  thought  it 
might  be — " 


A  Sorry  Eecridt.  171 

"  He  hasn't  been  here ! "  shouted  Forrest 
furiously.  "  Well,  now  I  will  tell  you  why  I 
came  home  so  unexpectedly." 

Then  he  told  his  story,  standing  there  before 
the  glass  with  disheveled  hair,  and  loosened  neck- 
tie, and  smutted  face.  Nanny,  her  bright  hazel 
eyes  flashing,  listened  intently,  ejaculating- at  in- 
tervals, "The  wretch!"  "Infamous!"  "Such 
a  falsehood ! " 

Aunt  Huldah  was  again  grasping  her  poker 
with  energy,  occasionally  brandishing  it,  and 
muttering  incoherently. 

"  Now  isn't  that  abonnnable  ? "  asked  Forrest. 

"Abominable!"  declared  Nanny.  "Shame- 
ful!  And  he  has  been  here  with  the  same  story." 

"  He  hasn't,  has  he,  Nanny  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Aunt  Huldah,  answering  for 
Nanny,  "and  he  ought  to,  be  hung;  and  I  am 
going  to  do  it  now — right  off!" 

"But  not  with  that  poker,  Aunt  Huldah?" 
said  Nanny. 

The  laugh  that  followed  broke  up  all  that  was 
left  of  the  disagreeable  tension  of  the  hour. 
They  all  now  commented  on  the  recent  events 
more  quietly,  while  the  females  proceeded  at 
the  same  time  to  make  Forrest  comfortable. 
Such  tender,  flattering  treatment  as  he  received  ! 
Nanny  herself  insisted  on  wiping  off  the  sooty 


172      Drumiiier-Boif  of  the  R'lppahannock. 

stains  upon  his  face.  Aunt  Huldali  brought  hira 
dry  stockings,  warm  slippers,  and  wanted  to  re- 
move his  boots. 

"  Yon  have  had  no  supper  and  must  be  awful 
hungry,  and  I  am  going  out  into  the  barn  and 
make  the  liens  give  me  a  fresh  Qgg^^^  said  Nan- 
ny, plunging  boldly  into  the  dark  she  had  feared 
a  little  while  ago. 

Aunt  Huldah  began  to  coax  the  kitchen  fire 
into  effective  service  and  set  the  tea-pot  on  the 
stove.  All  these  female  activities  were  varied 
with  expressions  of  tender  interest  in  Forrest, 
and  denunciations  of  Gilbert  French.  Nanny, 
too,  brought  into  the  kitchen  a  curious  little 
stand  of  mahogany  that  Captain  Frye  had  given 
Forrest  and  wiiich  was  ordinarily  kept  in  state 
amid  the  treasures  in  the  front  room.  Nanny 
covered  this  with  the  whitest  of  cloths.  Then 
she  set  on  it  a  pink  china  tea-cup  and  saucer, 
also  a  pink  china  plate.  On  this  crockery 
several  Celestials  were  Avobbling  about  in  odd- 
fashioned  robes  of  pink,  and  flying  kites  of 
pink. 

"  I  must  give  you  some  of  my  damsom  pre- 
serves to-night,"  said  Nanny,  pouring  the  crim- 
son globules  into  a  dish  snow  white. 

Aunt  Huldah  cut  several  slices  of  bread,  and 
poured  the  hot  tea  into  the  pink  cup,  thereby 


A  Sorrij  Recruit.  173 

scalding  a  Chinese  mandarin  at  the  bottom. 
Nanny  cracked  the  eggs  and  let  ont  their  white 
and  gold  into  a  little  glass  cnp  and  then  flavored 
the  eggs  just  as  she  knew  Forrest  fancied  thera, 
and  gave  them  an  additional  flavor  when  she 
said, 

"  There,  Forrest !  You  have  had  a  hard  time 
to-night.     Too  bad  !  " 

"  I'm  all  right  now.  First-rate  !  "  said  For- 
rest. 

x\s  he  sat  there,  the  engrossing  object  of  the 
care  and  attention  of  these  two  females,  the 
would-be  recruit  could  not  have  felt  better  if 
he  had  actually  been  to  war,  if  he  had  beaten 
his  drum  through  half  a  dozen  victories,  and, 
coming  home,  had  been  received  with  shouts, 
by  the  inhabitants  of  the  Port  and  then  escorted 
triumphantly  down  to  tliis  old  home  by  the 
sea.  He  went  to  bed  in  something  of  this 
delusion,  but  he  was  shocked  out  of  it  by  a 
dream  in  which  he  was  taking  that  "  short  cut" 
again.  He  saw  once  more  that  black  object 
In  the  burnt  lot,  but  this  time  it  turned  into 
an  antagonist  and  he  abruptly  awoke,  fancying 
he  heard  Gilbert  French's  voice  savagely  say- 
ing, "Now  I've  got  ye ! " 


1 74       Drummer-Boy  of  the  B^appahannock. 


CHAPTER  X. 

TRACKING     A     MYSTERY. 

WHEN  Nanny  awoke  the  next  morning,  she 
knew  it  was  early,  for  looking  out  of 
the  window  she  saw  a  strip  of  silvery  daylight 
on  the  sea.  It  was  like  a  long  hand  pointing 
out  the  hour  on  a  steel-gray  dial.  To  confirm 
her  in  this  opinion  of  the  early  hour  of  the  daj', 
she  heard  the  clock  striking  five  down  in  the 
front  entry,  the  tall  old  clock  that  through  the 
night  so  slowly  ticked.  It  was  like  the  sound 
of  a  sentinel-foot  walking  across  the  floor,  its 
fall  steadily  echoing  through  the  dark  hours. 

"Never  feel  afraid  when  I  hear  the  old  clock 
ticking  in  the  entry,"  Nanny  would  often  say. 
"It  is  like  a  friend  wide  awake  and  saying 
so." 

When  she  now  heard  the  musical  voice  of 
this  old  friend,  saying,  "  It  is  five  o'clock,"  she 
quickly  dressed,  for  she  knew  the  day  would  be 
a  busy  one  and  this  opportunity  for  an  early 
start  was  not  to  be  neglected. 

"  O  dear !  "  she  murmured,  when  she  thought 


Tracking  a  Mystery.  175 

of   Gilbert    French's    charge    agahist    Forrest. 
"  Wliy  should  this  new  trouble  come  'I  " 

I^anny  had  a  little  melodeon  in  her  room, 
both  little  and  old.  When  she  had  time  in  the 
morning  she  would  sit  down  at  the  melodeon 
and  let  it  breathe  out  some  message  of  cheer 
and  hope.  Somehow  the  words  and  tune  she 
wanted  came  promptly  to  her.  She  desired 
something  tliat  was  the  expression  of  a  soul  in 
trouble ;  an  expression  resigned  also,  and  trust- 
ful. "  Naomi "  was  the  tune  on  the  instrument 
that  echoed  notes  previously  sounding  in  her 
soul,  and  this  was  the  channel  of  thought  in 
which  her  own  feelings  readily  ran  : 

"  Father,  whate'er  of  earthly  bhss 

Thy  sovereign  will  denies, 
Accepted  at  thy  throne  of  grace 

Let  this  petition  rise : 
Give  me  a  calm  and  thankful  heart, 

From  every  murmur  free; 
The  blessings  of  thy  grace  impart, 

And  let  me  live  to  thee." 

Nanny  did  not  know  how  effective  her  sing- 
ing was  that  morning.  Her  voice,  so  clear  and 
silver-like,  always  attracted  the  attention  of  peo- 
ple ;  but  this  song  the  singer  peculiarly  felt. 
The  soul  was  in  the  music.     The  singer  was  in 

the    song.     It    made    all   the  difference  in  the 
12 


1V6     Drummer- Boy  of  the  Rappahannock. 

world.  Nanny  did  not  see  a  door  open  behind 
her,  neither  did  she  liear.  If  she  had  turned 
abruptly,  she  would  have  caught  Aunt  Huldah's 
two  sorrowful  eyes  in  the  door-crack.  Nanny 
afterward  slowly  revolved  on  the  melodeon- 
stool,  and  those  two  eyes  in  the  door-crack  dis- 
appeared quickly  as  two  blackbirds  caught  in  a 
corn-field.  Later,  Nanny  heard  Aunt  Huldah 
sinucino-  "Naomi"  in  her  room.  Fifteen  min- 
utes  later  Forrest  went  by  a  kitchen- window,  a 
hoe  thrown  over  his  shoulder. 

"  There  goes  Forrest,"  thought  Nanny.  "  He 
has  a  job  before  breakfast,  I  suppose,  down  in 
the  garden.  Hark  !  hear  him  whistle.  He  is  a 
si>lendid  whistler.  Why,  it's  'Naomi!'  Seems 
to  me  every  body  is  interested  in  that." 

Forrest  had  overheard  Nanny's  melodeon  and 
Nanny's  sweet  voice,  and  his  whistle  was  only  a 
repetition  of  these.  The  spirit  of  the  music  he 
could  not  con v^ey.  He  was  deaf  to  that.  Nanny's 
prayer,  though,  was  that  Forrest  might  one  day 
come  into  that  spiritual  world  in  which  the  soul 
is  at  home  with  God,  and  hears  continually  the 
music  of  his  voice. 

This  morning  was  a  busy  one.  Both  Forrest 
and  Nanny  were  anxious  to  get  some  of  their 
work  out  of  the  way,  and  after  breakfast  go  over 
to  Skipper  Bowser's. 


Tracking  a  Mystery.  177 

"  I.  think,"  Forrest  had  said,  "  I  tliink  I  had 
better  ask  Skipper  Bowser's  advice  on  this  sub- 
ject—about what  Gilbert  said,  and  about  the 
money  I  found  in  the  skipper's  shop— and  see  if 
he  can't  possibly  recall  something  that  will  help 
ine.     Will  you  go  with  nie,  Nanny  ?  " 

"  Of  course,  if  you  want  me  to.'' 

"I  would  like  to  have  you,  very  much." 

Alas  for  Forrest !  He  learned  that  the  skip- 
per started  the  night  before  for  an  up-country 
business-tour,  and  would  be  gone  for  a  number 
of  days. 

"  Wish  I  had  stopped  him  last  night,"  moaned 
Forrest.     "  Now  I  must  wait  till  he  gets  back." 

Forrest  also  purposed  to  see  Gilbert  French  at 
once,  but  George  told  him  that  he  had  been  at 
the  store  that  morning,  and  Gilbert  was  just 
leaving  to  take  the  cars. 

It  seemed  as  if  a  high,  thick  wall  had  abruptly 
risen  between  him  and  Skipper  Eowser  and  Gil- 
bert French.  He  was  on  one  side  of  this  wall, 
and  they  were  on  the  other,  miles  away,  and  he 
could  not  get  at  them  for  five  or  six  days.  O, 
how  long  and  hard  was  the  waiting  at  the  foot 
of  that  wall ! 

"I  suppose  people  are  talking  about  me," 
thought  Forrest  in  this  wretched  isolation  from 
those  he  wanted  to  reach. 


178     Bi'ummer-Boy  of  the  Rappahannock. 

Yes  ;  their  tongues  were  busy.  Nanny  learned 
that  the  morning  she  and  Forrest  went  to  hunt 
up  Skipper  Bowser.  Forrest  came  home  when 
he  had  learned  of  the  skipper's  absence.  Nanny 
tarried  to  make  a  call  on  Miranda  Bowser. 

"  O  dear  !  Aunt  Bowser,"  sighed  Nanny,  "  I 
did  not  think  another  trouble  was  coming ;  and 
this  seems  so  unnecessary  !  Have  you  heard  any 
thing  about  Forrest — any  truth,  I  mean?" 

To  this  very  indefinite  question  Miranda  Bow- 
ser nodded  her  head. 

"  Yes ;  only  yesterday  afternoon,  before  he 
left  home,  Jerry  heard  that  Gilbert  Frencli  was 
talking  about  him — Forrest,  I  mean — and  he 
said  he  was  going  to  call  up  and  see  Gilbert,  and 
jest  deny  it,  and  though  he  knew  Forrest  wasn't 
coinin'  back ;  yet  he  said  Forrest  might  come— 
kind  of  had  an  idee  that  way — and  he  was  a-goin' 
to  speak,  when  it  became  dark,  to  every  person 
he  met,  and  be  sure  and  not  pass  Forrest.  Well, 
I'm  sorry  for  him,  but  it  will  come  out  right. 
It's  abominable,  such  a  slanderin'." 

"  I  know  it !  Too  bad  !  "  said  Nanny,  bowing 
her  head,  and  inspecting  the  knitting-work  in 
her  hands.  "  We  can't  do  any  thing  now  except 
to  wait  until  the  skipper  and  Gilbert  get  back." 

"  How  does  Aunt  Huldah  take  it  ?  She  can't 
like  it,  I  know." 


Tracking  a  Mystery.  179 

"  0,  she  is  very  much  stirred  up  about  it,  She 
does  not  believe  it.     She  won't  hear  of  it." 

"  Huldah  has  disappointed  nie.  Why,  when 
she  came  I  didn't  know  what  you  would  do,  nor 
how  Forrest  would  take  it.  But  she  seems  to 
like  him—" 

"Oyes!" 

"  And  she  likes  you,  I  know.  I  thought  it 
would  be  so  hard  for  you.  We  all  think  she 
has  seen  some  trouble  when  away,  but  we  can't 
tell  what.     Perhaps  it  was  her  sickness." 

]S"anny  here  let  her  work  drop  in  her  lap,  and, 
lifting  her  eyes,  she  said  : 

"When  Aunt  Huldah  came  I  thought  nothing 
would  go  well,  but  I  said  if  she  had  any  good 
qualities  1  would  try  to  see  them,  and  shut  my 
eyes  to  the  others.  That  has  helped  me,  and  I 
do  think  we  have  got  along  well  together.  I 
try  not  to  cross  her — to  see  what  is  pleasant  in 
her.  And  then,  she  has  seen  some  trouble — her 
sickness,  I  dare  say — that  has  made  a  change." 

"  O,  we  all  say  so.  Skipper  noticed  the  dif- 
ference in  her,  and  I  saw  it." 

Aunt  Huldah's  troubles  in  the  past  were  a 
much-discussed  subject  of  conversation.  This 
relative  of  Captain  Frye  who  out  of  a  silent 
past  had  abruptly  risen  up  in  this  changed  char- 
acter was  as  great  a  mystery  as  that  tramp  who 


180     Drwmner-Boy  of  the  Rappahannock. 

had  so  suddenly  gone  away  and  sunk  down  into 
silence. 

Nanny  did  not  choose  to  tell  Aunt  Bowser 
about  Gilbert  French's  call  the  night  before; 
that  was  an  ugly  dream  she  did  not  care  to  revive. 
The  call  quieted  ISTanny,  and  helped  her.  After 
she  had  left  Miranda  Bowser's,  she  turned  to  look 
back  on  the  little  house  quietly  nestling  on  the 
edge  of  the  green,  nmnnuring  grove. 

*'  It  looks  so  restful,"  she  said. 

Nanny  also  cherished  one  thing  the  skipper's 
wife  had  said  about  Forrest's  trouble: 

"  We  think  he  is  right.  I  believe  God  knows 
the  poor  boy  is  right.  When  things  are  that 
way,  and  God  knows  they  will  come  out  so,  I  see 
how  it  is  He  can  be  so  calm  while  we  are  frettin' 
and  worryin'.  He  never  frets ;  He  never  wor- 
ries. He  knows  how  it  is  comin'  out,  and  if  we 
can  onlj'  think  so,  and  get  that  feelin',  it  helps 
us  and  keeps  us  quiet;  don't  it?" 

Nanny  said  at  the  time  she  thought  it  did. 
She  kept  saying  it.  It  was  like  that  soft,  pleas- 
ant tune,  "Naomi."  How  she  wished  Forrest 
could  appreciate  it  that  way  ! 

"  It  worries  him — this  trouble  does  !  "  she  said, 
closely  watching  him. 

Yes,  it  did  annoy  him,  though  he  knew  he 
\vas  right.     How  he  wished  the  hours  would 


Tracking  a  Mystery.  181 

linrry  by !  Time,  though,  that  to-day  may  go 
like  a  wheel  down-hill,  to-morrow  may  provok- 
ino'ly  move  with  the  slowness  of  a  half-frozen 
fly  in  l^ovember.  All  days,  though,  go  at  last ; 
and  one  night  Skipper  Bowser  came  home  in 
the  rattling,  bumping  Bowser  chariot. 

"  Glad  to  git  home,  for  more  reasons  than 
one,"  he  told  his  wife ;  "  and  one  thing  is  For- 
rest's trouble  that  you  wrote  me  about.  I 
believe  we  will  let  daylight  through  that  mys- 
tery, but  we  want  mornin'  to  do  it,  and  there 
shall  be  a  grand  conf'rence  to  do  it  in." 

The  grand  conference  was  held  in  the  boat- 
shop  the  next  morning.  The  skipper  and  Mi- 
randa Bowser  came  to  it,  of  course.  Forrest 
had  said  to  IS'anny  : 

"  We  want  you,  Nan — or  I  do." 

"  I'll  go,"  said  Nanny,  energetically,  "  I  want 
to  see  this  thing  cleared  up,  as  I  believe  it  will 
be.  You  know  you  are  right,  Forrest.  Now 
stand  there  and  don't  worry.  You  will  come 
out  right ! " 

That  brightened  the  outlook  for  Forrest,  and 
a  smile  swept  his  handsome  features. 

In  addition  to  these,  there  came  to  the  boat- 
shop  George  and  Eliza.  George  had  been  sum- 
moned by  the  skipper  because  he  had  seen  a 
mysterious  light  in   the  shop  the  night  before 


182      Drummer-Boy  of  the  RapjmhannocJc. 

that  strange  discovery  of  tlie  inone}^  by  Forrest. 
Tlie  skippers  sj)onse  was  responsible  for  this 
summons. 

"  Jerrj,  you  ax  George  to  come  over.  You 
know  he  saw  a  h'ght  in  the  shop,"  said  Miranda. 

"  ISTonsense,  Mirandy ! "  replied  Jerry.  "  Some 
kind  of  a  fire-fly  that  George  saw,  Mirandy. 
He's  full  of  his  seein's." 

"But  fire-flies  are  not  round  every  night  of 
the  year,  Jerry." 

To  this  the  discomfited  skipper's  only  reply 
was,  "Wall,"  and  George  was  invited.  Eliza 
came  also,  tliough  uninvited.  The  two  were 
inseparable,  though  very  unlike.  George  was 
a  short,  slight,  wiry  mulatto,  with  big  eyes  for- 
ever "  seein'  "  things  strange  and  uncanny.  Eliza 
was  a  large,  loose-limbed  negress,  easy-natui-ed 
and  laughing;  never  caring  to  live,  like  her  hus- 
band, in  that  world  of  wonder,  shadowy  and 
dim  and  mysterious,  his  admired  head-quarters. 
There  was  a  world  of  horror  into  which  she  was 
afraid  he  would  venture,  and  that  was  the  war. 
She  dreaded  it.     He  was  fascinated  by  it. 

"If  it  wasn't  for  you,  Lize,"  lie  said,  rolling 
round  his  big,  staring  eyes,  "I'd  foUer  dat  boy's 
drum  into  de  army — dat  am  s'posin' — s'posin' — 
he's  gwine." 

"Den  I  hope  he  won't  gwine.     'Taint  modes' 


Tracking  a  Mijstery.  183 

fur  colored  folk  to  poke  clemselbes  into  dis  yere 
war." 

George  was  not  convinced  by  this  profound 
remark. 

To  tlie  skipper's  grand  conference,  then,  came 
George,  and  EHza  laughingly  shuffled  after  him. 

The  skipper's  sharp,  keen  features  slowly 
turned  from  one  member  of  this  conference  to 
another,  as  if  he  were  cataloguing  it,  and  saying, 
"  Forrest,  Nanny,  George,  Elizay,  and  Mirandy 
Jane." 

The  faces  of  all  were  eagerly  turned  toward 
liim. 

He  then  spoke  to  Forrest :  "  Now,  Forrest, 
jest  tell  us  about  that  money  you  found  here. 
We'll  begin  at  the  beginnin'." 

"  Well,  sir,  I  came  in  here  one  morning,  and 
that  window  there  was  open" — he  pointed  at  a 
window  overlooking  the  brook  journeying  to 
the  great  sea — "  and  on  the  bench  before  it  was 
a  package  of  something.  I  don't  know  what 
made  me  open  it.  I  often  wish  I  hadn't  trou- 
bled it,  but  I  did ;  and  there  was  a  roll  of  bank 
bills.  With  the  money  was  a  piece  of  paper 
saying — well,  I  didn't  look  at  it  sharp — but 
something  about  putting  money  in  the  bank  for 
some  young  people,  and  saying  there  was  an  ad- 
dress   somewhere    else — and — that — one    could 


184     Drumyw^r-Boy  of  the  Ra2')pahannoc7c. 

write  there  if  lie  wanted  to.  That  was  all  I 
saw\  I  hunted  for  another  j^iece  of  paper,  but 
couldn't  find  it.  Well,  I  had  left  the  shop  door 
open,  and  feeling  the  draft  was  pretty  strong  I 
went  to  siiut  the  door.  AVhen  1  was  on  mj  waj^, 
the  wind  blew  pretty  freel}',  but  I  shut  the  dooi", 
and  that  stopped  the  big  draft.  When  I  got 
back,  paper  and  bills  were  gone,  and  I  haven't 
S'jcn  them  since.  That  is  the  whole  of  it  and — 
and — God  knows  it  is  true." 

"  That  money  is  what  Gilbert  says  he  lost, 
and  ho  says  Forrest  brouglit  it  here  and  then, 
bein'  sorry,  you  know,  or  afraid  he'd  be  found 
out,  Forrest  got  up  this  story,"  said  the  skipper  ; 
"  and  Gilbert  says  Forrest  knows  where  the 
money  has  gone,  and  says,  too,  that  Forrest 
'lows  the  top  money  was  on  a  Drewville  bank  " 

"Yes,  sir,  I  think  the  top  bill  was  on  a  Drjw- 
ville  bank  ,  but  there  are  more  bills  than  one  on 
the  Drewville  bank,"  said  Forrest. 

"  That  is  very  true,"  remarked  the  skipper, 
triumphantly;  "but  you  see  it  gives  Gilbert  a 
handle.  Now  if  we  could  find  where  the 
money  came  from,  or  that  address  Forrest  says 
lie  saw  on — " 

"  Wall,  Jerry,  now  tell  wdiat  you  know,"  said 
Miranda,  quickly  interrupting  this  counselor. 

Then  the  skipper  gave    an    account   of   the 


Tracking  a  Mystery.  185 

tramp's  strange  call  at  the  boat-shop  the  day  he 
disappeared. 

"  And,  George,  you  tell  about  what  you  saw," 
said  Miranda. 

George  was  ready.  Twisting  about  those 
spacious  orbs  under  his  eye-brows,  he  began  : 
"  I  were  a-lookin'  out  de  winder  in  de  dead  ob 
night.  Dar  were  a  moon,  cole  an'  chill,  a-stealin' 
froo  de  pines,  an'  a  big  wind  dat  gwine  a  moanin' 
round,  an'  lookin'  down  dis  way,  mournful  like, 
I  saw  a-flashin'out  ob  dese  yer  winders — a-mourn- 
ful  like  an'  de  wind  kep'  a-moanin',  de  pine- 
trees  a-sliibberin',  an'  de  moon  a-lookin'  chill  an' 
lonesum,  an'  dat  kin'  ob  flashin'  light  it  come 
free  time,  an'  I  sez  dat  wer  a  heap  strange. 
l>Qn  all  ob  a-suddin'  dar  wer  only  a  blackness, 
an'  de  moon  kept  a-shinin'  lonesum  an'  de  tree 
shibberin'  an'  de  wind  a-moanin'  cole  an'  lone — 
an — an — " 

"  Wall,  George,  what  do  you  think  all  that 
amounts  to  ? "  asked  the  skipper  in  a  practical 
way.  "What  does  it  amount  to,  this  lonesum- 
ness  of  the  moon  and  the  shiverin'  of  the  trees 
and  a — so  on  ? " 

"  I  dunno ! "  said  George.  "  I  kent  'splain.  It 
took  de  bref  out  ob  me." 

"  Got  sum  lef,'  honey, "  said  Eliza  in  a  low 
voice,  and  aside. 


186     Drummer- Boy  of  the  Rappahaniwch. 

"If  we  could  find  that  piece  of  paper  which 
had  ail  address  on  it,"  suggested  Nanny,  "  that 
miglit  give  us  some  light.  I  mean  the  address 
Forrest  referred  to." 

"Wall,"  said  the  skipper,  "that  reminds  me 
that  I  picked  up  a  piece  of  paper  having  on  it  a 
street  in  IS'ew  York.  Miranda  remembers  I  told 
her  about  it,  but — I  can't  find  it  myself,  now." 

This  made  a  commotion. 

"  O  let's  hunt !  O  let's  hunt !  "  cried  mem- 
bers of  the  conference. 

Forrest  made  a  good  suggestion :  "  Let  us 
divide  up  the  shop." 

The  shop  was  divided  into  sections,  and  for 
half  an  hour  there  was  the  most  patient  as  well 
as  minute  examination.  George  explored  in  a 
most  characteristic  way.  The  light,  bright 
places  he  left  to  the  inspection  of  Eliza.  Any 
dark  hole,  any  thing  that  seemed  to  be  the  ap- 
propriate hiding-place  of  a  mj'-stery,  he  thrust 
his  eager  hands  into.  He  was  poking  his  head  up 
through  an  opening  in  the  ceiling,  into  a  gloomy 
little  loft,  when  he  heard  a  shout.  It  was  his 
spouse  crying  out :  "  Got  suflin'  !  " 

She  had  concluded  to  search  more  patiently 
and  thoroughly  a  shelf  in  her  section.  She  took 
down  several  planes.  She  brushed  away  a  little 
heap  of  shavings,  and  shouted,  "  Got  suffin' !  " 


Tracking  a  Mystery.  187 

All  the  seekers  ran  to  her.  She  was  holding 
up  a  dusty  slip  of  paper. 

"  Lemme  see  ! ''  said  the  skipper.  He  pulled 
out  a  pair  of  spectacles,  fastened  them  on  the 
bridge  of  his  nose,  and  then  passed  the  paper 
before  them.  He  muttered,  "  Send — to  Grand 
Street—" 

He  stopped  and  shouted,  "  Hoo-ray  !  This  is 
what  I  lost !     Hooray  !  " 

"  flead  the  rest !  "  said  an  eager  voice. 

He  read,  "  Send  to  Grand  Street,  —  ! " 

"  Dat  am  a  heap  strange,"  said  George, 

"  But — but,"  said  Forrest,  "  whom  do  we  send 
to?" 

He  was  sorry  he  suggested  this  evident  diffi- 
culty, for  the  countenances  of  all  fell  instantly. 
They  had  looked  so  eager,  happy,  and  satisfied, 
a  short  moment  ago. 

"  Well,  that  is  a  conundrum  !  "  said  jSTanny. 

They  all  felt  so  unpleasantly  the  cliill  of  their 
disappointment  that  it  was  a  relief,  as  they 
looked  awkwardly  and  perplexed  at  one  an- 
ollier,  to  hear  the  door  open,  and  in  walked 
Aunt  Huldali.  She  had  not  been  invited  to 
this  grand  conference,  but  if  the  skipper  daily 
for  a  week  iiad  been  inviting  her,  slie  could  not 
have  been  more  eagerly  welcomed  by  him, 

"  Hullo,    Huldy  !      Then  you've  got  over  at 


188     Drummer-Boy  of  the  Rappahannock. 

last!  Glad  to  see  ye!  It's  the  first  time 
you've  seen  my  shop  since  you  came  htme. 
Look  nat'ral,  does  it?"  asked  the  skipper, 
promptly  stepping  forward. 

Aunt  Iluldah  did  not  seem  to  have  eyes  for 
the  council,  but  the  council-room.  She  slowly 
began  to  pass  about  the  shop,  noticing  the 
benches,  the  shelves,  the  walls,  but  she  paid  no 
attention  to  any  person  present.  They  did  not 
ask  for  it.  Her  odd  moods  were  known  to  them, 
and  they  were  accustomed  to  let  her  have  her  own 
way.  She  finally  stopped  before  a  paper  docu- 
ment pinned  to  the  wall,  and  began  to  read  : 

"We  won't — drink  any  more — so  help  ns — 
our  Heavenly  Father!  Old  Soldier." 

"Old  soldier?"  she  repeated,  and  read  no 
farther. 

"A  tramp — that  man  who  was  along  here. 
You  may  have  heard  us  speak  of  him,"  explained 
the  skipper. 

Aunt  Huldali  did  not  seem  to  hear  him,  so 
absorbed  was  she  in  her  own  reflections  upon 
this  humble  but  significant  piece  of  chalk-work 
on  that  paper, 

"  That  writing  looks  very  natural,"  she  mut- 
tered.    "Who  is  Old  Soldier?" 

There  was  a  minute  of  silence. 


Tracking  a  Mystery.  189 

"That  is  the  thing  of  it.  Nobody  knows," 
said  Nanny. 

Next,  Aunt  Huldah  noticed  the  little  slip  of 
p;iper  Eliza  had  found,  and  which  was  now  lying 
on  a  bench  beneath  that  rudely  chalked  pledge. 
She  stooped  down  and  read  the  address,  "  Send 
to— Grand  Street  -New  York— No.  — ." 

Aunt  Huldah  started  back.  She  pat  her 
hand  on  her  heart  as  if  a  sudden  blow  had  there 
been  given  her.  Both  these  movements  Nanny 
noticed,  for  she  closely  watched  her.  Indeed, 
Aunt  Huldah  was  one  of  the  kind  of  people 
that  you  would  be  likely  to  watch  any  way. 

"Why,"  she  murmured,  "it  is  the  same  hand- 
writing as  in  the  signature  to  the  pledge,  '  Old 
Soldier.' " 

"  What  % "  asked  the  skipper,  eagerly,  and 
lie  bent  down  to  inspect  the  address  closely. 
Then  he  took  up  the  address  and  held  it  beside 
the  signature  to  the  pledge. 

"There!"  he  exclaimed.  "Can't  you  all  see 
it?" 

"Yes,  yes!"  "So  it  is!"  "The  very  same 
hand!"  murmured  one  after  the  other. 

"  Huldah  !  "  exclaimed  the  skipper.  But  Hul- 
dah had  gone.  Suddenly  she  had  slipped  out 
of  the  conference  and  vanished  from  the  shop. 

"She  is  always  queer !"  somebody  said,  and 


190      Drummer- Boy  of  the  Rappahannock. 

the  conference  as  a  whole  thought  no  more 
about  it.  Nanny,  however,  did  not  let  it  go  out 
of  her  mind,  but  wondered  at  and  reflected  upon 
Aunt  Huldah's  strange  conduct. 

"  "Wall,"  observed  the  skipper,  "  we  have 
found  out  one  tiling.     What  next  ? " 

"  How  are  you  going  to  address  that  'ere  man 
now  ? "  asked  Miranda  Jane. 

"  Mought  direct  it  to  '  A  Strange  Pusson.'  Dat 
will  fetch  him,"  observed  George. 

"  Direct  it  '  Old  Soldier,'  "  suggested  Forrest. 

"Yes!  yes!"  said  the  skipper,  and  the  sug- 
gestion at  once  met  with  the  approbation^  of 
all  the  others.  i^^ 

Skipper  Bowser  sat  down  that  very  forenoon 
to  write  the  desired  'ietter,  asking  the  trai^p  if 
he  knew  any  thing ^out  some  money 'i^t  in 
the  boat-shop,  saying  also  tliat  Forrest  had  been 
charged  with  the  theft  of  it.  ,^||| 

The  skipper  had  attended  a  writing-school 
once  upon  a  time,  and  knew  how  to  execute  the 
most  wonderful  flourishes  with  his  pen,  so  that 
his  epistle  was  an  ink  marvel^  in  the  eyes  of 
George,  who  still  lingered  iq^the  boat-shop  and 
watched  admiringly  the  skipper. 

"  There,  George,  you  take  that  to  the  office, 
and  we  will  wait  patiently  ftjijn  "iJlMB^iPJ^ 
the  skipper,  handing  George  tl 


Tracking  a  Mystery.  191 

Then  came  a  waiting  but  not  altogether  patient. 
Day  after  day  Forrest  went  to  the  post-office,  and 
as  often  Xanny  went  to  a  window  from  which 
she  could  look  up  the  road  toward  the  office. 

"  I  want  to  see  how  he  looks  when  he  comes 
bringing  the  letter,"  said  Nanny. 

Day  after  day,  though,  she  saw  only  a  disap- 
pointed face  slowly  coming  down  the  dusty  old 
road. 

"  Keep  up  good  heart,  Forrest,"  IS'anny  would 
cheerfully  say,  and  the  shadow  would  ttjal 
away  from  Forrest's  face. 

One  day,  though,  there  was  no  slow  coming 
down  the  road  ;  but  l^anny  saw  Forrest  running. 
He  was  smiling.  In  one  hand  he  held  up  a  let- 
ter and  waved  it,  for  he  knew  Nanny  was  watch- 
ing and  would  see  him. 

'•It's  come,  Nanny!  Post-marked,  'New 
York,'  and  in  the  tramp's  handwriting,"  he 
shouted  from  the  door-way.  "Come  over  to 
the  boat-shop,  and  I'll  get  the  skipper  to  read  it 
to  you  and  Aunt  Bowser." 

An  eager  little  circle  in  the  boat-shop  sur- 
rounded the  skipper,  and  he  picked  his  way 
through  these  words : 

"Dear  Skipper  Bowser:  Yes;  I  left  that 
money. in  the  boat-shop.     I  thought  it  was  care- 


192       Drummer-Boy  of  the  Rappahannock. 

less  in  me  to  do  so,  and  jet  I  knew  if  I  offered 
it  to  you  again  yon  would  refuse  it.  If  I  left  it, 
what  could  you  do  but  deposit  it  ?  Forrest  says 
the  wind  blew  it  away,  I  believe  him.  The  wind 
may  blow  it  back  again,  and,  if  it  does  turn  up, 
put  it  in  the  bank,  as  T  said,  please,  for  those 
young  folks.  You  may  like  to  know  I  am  keep- 
ing that  pledge. 

"  I  don't  forget  what  she  said :  '  There  is  no 
telling  how  high  folks  may  go  in  this  life  even.' 
"  Truly  yours,  Old  Soldier, 

P.  S, — It  was  just  two  hundred  and  forty-five 
dollars.  Ask  Gilbert  French  how  much  he  lost. 
That  will  trip  him," 

"  He's  dreadful  afraid  to  have  ns  know  his 
name,"  remarked  the  skipper.  "  Plowever,  he 
has  made  his  affidavy.  Hullo,  Huldah,  you 
here?" 

Yes,  Aunt  Huldah  had  arrived,  and,  an  unno- 
ticed listener,  she  had  heard  the  letter. 

"I  thought  that  would  reach  him,"  Nanny 
heard  Aunt  Huldah  say,  and  Nanny  noticed, 
too,  that  an  unusually  happy  smile  chased  the 
shadows  away  from  Aunt  Huldah's  face.  It 
only  made  Nanny  wonder  what  Aunt  Huldah's 
relations  to  the  tramp  could  possibly  have 
been. 


Tracking  a  Mystery.  193 

"  And  now,  friends,"  the  skipper  was  saying, 
"  three  cheers  for — for  vin — vin-di-ca-tion  !  " 

It  was  a  long  word,  but  the  skipper  got  the 
better  of  it  at  hist,  and  pointed  at  Forrest  as  he 
wrestled  the  word  into  submission.  Tlie  "  grand 
conference"  gave  the  three  cheers  triumph- 
antly. 

"  There,  Forrest !  Didn't  I  tell  you  so  ?  "  said 
!N"anny,  her  bright  eyes  sparkling  with  a  deep 
personal  satisfaction.  "jSTow  you  come  home, 
and  two  women  will  give  you  a  good  dinner." 

Poor  JSTanny! — while  happy  Nanny!  Slie 
knew  that  Forrest's  triumphant  "vindication" 
was  only  clearing  out  of  the  way  an  obstacle  to 
his  enlistment.  This  step  was  taken  in  a  few 
weeks. 


194      Drwnmer-Boy  of  the  Rappahannock. 


CHAPTER  XL 

ENLISTED. 

^^T/'OU  here  again  ?"  said  the  sandj-bearded, 
J_  bald-headed  Captain  Peirce,  in  the  dingj 
little  recruiting  ottice  at  the  Port.  "And  want 
to  enlist  ?  I  am  ready.  I  expected  you  would 
come.  Liked  the  way  you  talked  at  the  time 
you  were  here,  and  some  fishermen  from  your 
place  told  me  how  you  put  the  shot  into  those 
charges  against  you.     Ha  !  ha !  ha  !  " 

Here  the  officer  threw  back  his  head,  and 
tipped  up  his  broad  beard  till  it  seemed  more 
than  ever  like  a  shovel  with  which  this  son  of 
Mars  wished  to  shovel  something  out  of  the 
way. 

Having  accomplished  this  feat,  he  attended  to 
the  details  of  Forrest's  case,  told  him  about  the 
surgeon's  examination  he  must  pass,  about  the 
time  he  would  probably  stay  in  camp  before" 
going  "to  the  front"  in  Virginia,  about  a 
drummer -boy's  equipments  and  a  drummer- 
boy's  duties.  All  needed  steps  were  taken,  For- 
rest was  duly  enlisted,  and  the  surgeon's  gaunt- 


Enlisted.  195 

let  run  suceessfnlly.  Enlisted  men  went  into 
camp  at  once,  and  a  short  furlough  might  be 
granted  them.  Forrest  obtained  the  latter,  for 
there  were  yet  some  things  to  be  finally  looked 
after  on  the  Frye  farm.  The  day  he  received 
his  furlough  George  saw  him  going  down  the 
road,  walking  rapidly  with  a  proud  step. 
"  Got  a  furlough,  George,"  said  Forrest. 
"Good  for  you!  Wish  I  might  hab  one," 
replied  the  mulatto. 

George  hardly  comprehended  the  meaning  of 
the  word  for  a  soldier's  liberty,  for  he  reported 
to  Eliza  that  Forrest  had  got  a  "  furlong." 

''  Got  a  what  ? "  asked  Eliza,  who  was  bend- 
ing over  a  corn-cake  she  Avished  to  make  savory 
as  possible  for  George's  dinner. 

"  A  furlong;  an'  it  make  him  feel  a  heap  nicer 
dan  what  Gilbert  French  got  dis  yer  moinin'. 
I  saw  it  all,  Lize." 

"  Dat  reskul  got  hum,  George  ?  Eb  I  were 
dat  white  trash,  I'd  stay  away,  an'  not  show 
myself  in  dese  yer  parts." 

"I  saw  it  all  an' — an' — it  would  hab  made  yer 
eyes  open,  honey,  how  dat  skipper  dress  him 
down.  You  see,  dat  Gilbert  warn'  lookin'  fur 
him — jes'  got  hum — an'  de  skipper  tuk  him  an' 
read  part  dat  letter  from  de  ole  s©jer,  an'  den 
lie  ax  Gilbert  how  much  monev  he  lost,  an*  dat 


196       B rummer- Boy  of  the  Rappahannock. 

Gilbert  lie  were  a  kind  ob  twisted  up  like,  an'  he 
sey  '  four  hundred,'  an'  den  he  'guess  it  mought 
be  free  hundred  an'  fifty."  Den  ef  dat  skipper 
didn'  show  all  dat  letter,  chile,  an'  who  leP  dat 
money,  an'  how  much,  an'  he  dunibconfounded 
him,  an'  he  choke,  an'  stammer,  an'  lose  his 
breff ;  an'  den — " 

"What  den,  honey?" 

"  Yer  Aunt  Huldy  she  hab  an  inklin'  what 
mought  be  up,  an'  she  came  in — O  so  sof  an' 
sly — an'  she  did  gib  dat  Gilbert  a  heap  ob  talkin'. 
Mos'  tuk  de  eyes  out  ob  him,  an'  de  ears  off  him, 
an'  she  tol'  him  to  tink  he — a  man — would  be 
a-gittin'  up  lies  'bout  a  boy  wantin'  to  lay  his  life 
down  fur  his  country !  O,  she  tuk  de  peelin' 
off  him!  He  wanted  to  say  suffin',  an'  she  jes' 
shet  him  up.  She  jes'  show  him,  honey,  how 
incon-sist-sis-ter-ent  it  was  to  stir  up  dat  boy 
to  goin'  oif,  and  den  try  to  stop  him  when  a-goin' ! 
Yes,  Gilbert  stirred  him  up— dat  Forres' — to  go 
to  de  war,  got  him  crazy  'bout  it,  an'  den,  when 
de  time  come,  he  jes'  try  to  keep  him  here,  an' 
frow  him  in  prisum.     O,  dat  Gilbert  a  reskel!" 

Somebody  else  thought  poorly  of  Gilbert 
French.  It  was  the  recruiting  officer  at  the 
Port. 

He  asked  Forrest  one  day  where  the  "  distil- 
ler "  was,  but  Forrest  did  not  know. 


Enlisted.  197 

"  Has  he  come  home  ? " 

"  O  yes,  sir." 

"  The  first  time  you  came  here  I  Hked  one 
thing  you  said  about  distilleries — where  they 
made  lies  and  thefts  and  murders.  1  have  often 
thought  of  that  man,  and  wondered  when  the 
fires  were  all  a-going,  and  the  old  distillery  was 
a-fuming  and  steaming,  if  that  distiller  knew 
what  he  was  manufacturing:  in  one  place  a  vat 
of  lies,  in  another  a  vat  of  thefts.  O,  it's  a  mean, 
miserable  business,  making  money  on  man's  mis- 
ery !  You  see  I'm  a  kind  of  a  crank  on  this  sub- 
ject. My  brother-officers  think  I'm  down  on 
drinking  too  much,  but  the  army  is  the  place 
where  I've  seen  too  much  of  it.  Now,  I  sha'n't 
see  you  again  here — " 

"  You  ordered  back  to  the  army  ?  " 

"  I  go  to  join  my  regiment  to-morrow.  Let 
me  give  you  some  advice :  Don't  touch  drink  in 
the  army — what  intoxicates,  I  mean." 

"  That  is  where  I  stand,"  said  Forrest,  with 
pride.  "  I  have  taken  sides  in  that  thing  long 
ago." 

"  Keep  the  stand.  Well,  we  shall  meet,  per- 
haps, somewhere — and  I  wonder  where  it  will 
be!" 

Forrest  was  silent. 

"  Well,"  said  the  army-officer,  "  when  we  get 


198     Drummer-Boy  of  the  Rappahannock. 

throngli  tliis  war  we  must  go  into  another. 
When  we  have  finished  up  slavery  we  must 
figlit  intemperance.  That's  where  the  next 
fight  is  going  to  be  —  overthrowing  that  evil. 
That  old  fort  of  the  evil  one  must  go  down." 

As  he  spoke  he  pointed  at  the  old  distillery, 
whose  furnaces  were  glowing  and  chinmeys 
smoking. 

"  Yes,  we  must  fight  that." 

"  We  will  fight  it  now,"  said  Forrest. 

"  Good  for  you,  boy  !  Good  for  you !  You 
beat  on  your  drum  a  charge  against  it." 


The  Furlough.  199 


CHAPTER  XIL 

THE     FUULOUaH. 

IT  was  such  a  short  furlough,  and  its  last  even- 
ing had  come.  Forrest  and  Kanny  once  more 
cUmbed  the  patient  back  of  the  Lion  and  sat 
down  on  the  stone  under  the  old  pine. 

"  Wonder  if  we  shall  ever  sit  down  here  to- 
gether again,"  thought  Forrest. 

Nanny  had  the  same  thought. 

The  sun  was  still  above  the  horizon.  The 
clouds  were  arranged  in  long  strata  of  purple 
and  gold,  and  between  them  were  spaces  of 
soft  blue  sky.  From  one  to  the  other  passed 
the  sun  as  if  noiselessly  stepping  down  the 
rounds  of  a  glorious  ladder.  It  seemed  so  very 
happy  in  the  west,  and  the  sea  under  that  glori- 
ous cloud-ladder  was  a  pavement  of  marvelously 
colored  stones.  Under  the  hill  it  was  so  harsh 
and  noisy,  the  surf  sounding  its  dolorous  trum- 
pets. 

"  I  hope  every  thing  will  be  pleasant  while  I 
am  gone,  I^anny,"  remarked  Forrest. 

"  Aunt  Huldah  and  I  will  do  our  best,  For- 


200      Drummer-Boy  of  the  Rappahannock. 

rest.  We  lio23e  to  get  along.-  It  won't  take 
much  to  keep  us  two  women.  There  is  the 
rent  from  the  blacksniitli's  shop  and — " 

"  And  the  things  on  the  farm  and  the  cow 
and  the  hens." 

"  Yes,  all  will  help.  Then  Aunt  Huldah  and 
I  think  we  can  earn  some  money  bj  sewing." 

"  You  shall  have  mj  pay." 

"Thank  j'ou,  we  don't  want  it;  and  I  don't 
believe  we  shall  need  it  if — " 

"What's  the  if!" 

"  Gilbert  French.  Father  owed  him,  and — I 
don't  know,  but  I  imagine  Gilbert  may  try  to 
take  the  farm." 

"  You  think  so  !     If  he  does — " 

"  O  don't  you  get  fierce!  Aunt  Huldah  will 
defend  me.     O  see  !  the  sun  lias  gone  !  " 

She  was  glad  to  change  the  subject.  She  did 
not  want  the  furlough  of  the  drummer-boy  to  be 
disturbed  by  that  stirrer  up  of  strife,  Gilbert 
French.  The  sun  had  reached  a  stratum  of 
cloud  so  broad  that  its  disk  was  hidden.  The 
ladder-round  was  bigger  than  the  glorious  being 
on  the  ladder,  but  he  soon  passed  beyond  it. 

"There's  the  sun  again!  And,  O,  Forrest, 
you  haven't  read  the  letter  from  old  Mrs.  De 
Witt  that  came  to-day." 

"  Why,  no ;  but  I  meant  to." 


The  Furlough.  201 

"  You  men  are  not  so  interested  in  letters  as 
we  women." 

"  Bnt  I  shall  be  in  writing  to  you.  I  am  going 
to  have  a  day — a  cei'tain  day  every  week  for 
writing  to  you." 

"But  what  if  some  of  those  Southerners 
Bliould  gobble  up  the  mail-bags  ? " 

"  Then  I'll  gobble  up  the  Southerners." 

"  O,  you  are  too  fierce  to-night !  ]^ow  the 
old  lady's  letter  has  come  just  in  time  to  quiet 
you." 

"Well,  you  read  it,  and  let  me  see  how  it 
affects  me." 

l^anny  quickly  traversed  tlie  opening  sen- 
tences, which  made  grateful  reference  to  the 
rescue  from  the  yacht,  and  then  came  to  this 
passage : 

"  '  You  may  wonder  why  I  write,  but  the 
man  that  you  called  the  tramp — '  " 

"  He  turned  up  again,  Nanny  %  " 

"  It  seems  so  ;  I'll  read  on  :  '  the  tramp  came 
to  my  house  and  said  he  had  been  stopping  in 
ISTew  York,  and  had  heard  that  Forrest  Hooper 
was  going  to  the  war,  and  thought  I  might  like 
to  know  it,  and  came  out  into  the  suburbs  to  tell 
me.  He  said  he  hoped  he  might  get  off  him- 
self, as  soon  as  he  was  stronger.  He  has  been 
sick,  I  believe.     I  thanked  him,  and  told  him 


202      Drummer- Boy  of  the  Rappahannock. 

I  would  write  to  the  Frjes.  So  I  have  been 
thinking  what  message  I  could  send.  I  have  a 
grandson,  Belle's  only  brother,  at  the  South,  a 
young,  enthusiastic  fellow,  and  I  expect  he  will 
be  in  the  light.  That  makes  me  all  the  more 
interested  in  the  fact  that  Forrest  is  going. 
You  must  wisli  him  all  kinds  of  blessings  for 
me,  and  tell  him  to  remember  this,  in  lighting 
the  South :  that  while  he  is  right  in  standing  up 
for  the  Union,  and  in  standing  out  against  slav- 
ery, yet  perhaps  if  he  had  been  brought  up  at 
the  South,  he  might,  like  my  grandson,  be  in  the 
Southern  army ;  and  while  he  hates  the  sin  he 
must  try  to  have  charity  for  the  sinner.  There, 
I  don't  know  ar  I've  made  my  meaning  clear. 
People  call  me  half-hearted,  but  I  am  not ;  I  am 
whole-hearted  in  my  devotion  to  my  country, 
and  I  pray  that  the  black  sin  of  slavery  may  go, 
and  the  Union  stay.  I  wonder  if  Forrest  will 
understand  me — '  " 

"  O  yes,  I  understand  you.  Grandma  De  Witt ; 
and  if  I  see  him  I  will  promise  not  to  knock 
him  over  with  my  drum-stick,  but  take  him  sort 
of  easy  and  see  if  I  can't  turn  him  into  a  good 
Union  soldier,  Nanny." 

"  What  if  he  should  you.,  Forrest,  and  you  go 
to  a  Southern  prison?  O  dear!  There  goes 
the  sun !  " 


The  Furlough.  203 

The  sun,  in  its  stately  way  of  stepping  down 
that  beautiful  cloud-ladder,  had  reached  the 
lowest  round  and  threatened  to  quickly  disap- 
pear in  the  sea.  Did  Nanny  say,  "  O  dear  !  " 
because  the  sun  was  going  into  the  sea,  or  be- 
cause Forrest  might  go  into  prison  ? 

"  Wish  I  knew,"  thought  Forrest.  "  I  hate 
sunsets.  I  shall  come  •  back,  JSTanny,"  he  said 
aloud. 

"  I  hope  so." 

They  were  now  standing  facing  that  impru- 
dent sun  which,  having  descended  one  round  too 
many,  was  struggling  with  the  cold,  envious 
ocean  sure  to  smother  its  light,  so  happy  and 
joyous. 

"  There  will  be  my  pay,  ISTanny,  which,  if — if 
I  shouldn't  come  back,  some  one  must  look  after, 
and  I  want  every  penny  to  come  to  you,  and  if 
you  should  get  married — " 

"Forrest,"  she  said  abruptly,  "how  could  I 
get  married  ? " 

"  But  if— if  I  come  back—" 

Nanny  had  now  stood  the  strain  of  his  going 
away  as  long  as  possible,  and  when  he  suggested 
that  he  might  never  come  back  she  covered  her 
face  with  her  hands  and  turned  away. 

"  O,  Nanny,  don't— don't !  I  didn't  mean  to  ! 
I— I—" 


204      Drummer-Boy  of  the  RappahaiDiock. 

Nanny  cried  more  violently.  The  flood-gates 
were  open  at  last. 

What  could  he  say  ?  It  was  so  awkward,  so 
embarrassing.  lie  tried  once  more,  this  sense- 
less wretch,  wondering  in  his  heart  if  all  that 
went  to  the  war  made  so  miserable  every  body 
about  them. 

"Nanny,"  he  whispered,  in  the  effort  to  say 
something  comforting,  "  1  shall — never — marry 
■ — any  body  else." 

Nanny's  hands  came  down  from  her  face  in 
an  instant,  and  through  her  tears  she  smiled  as 
she  said,  "  O  you  foolish  boy  !" 

Her  eyes  now  seemed  full  of  pearls  and  dia- 
monds like  those  western  clouds  the  sun  had 
wrought  upon  with  his  magic.  The  eyes  told 
what  the  lips  held  back.  Down  the  hill  went 
Forrest  and  Nanny  side  by  side.  The  soft 
western  light  was  about  them.  The  old  hill 
seemed  to  rise  up  and  bless  them,  but  below 
them  there  was  the  s.urf  angrily  growling,  and 
tliere  were  the  darkening  waves  outside  the 
ghastly  surf.  Did  they  think  of  this — that  they 
in  their  lives  were  leaving  peace  and  light  be- 
hind them,  and  were  going  on  to  meet  the 
anger  and  blackness  of  war  always  dreadful  ? 

Did  Nanny  think  of  the  latter  when,  half  an 
hour  later,  on  her  way  with  Forrest  to  a  service 


The  Furlough.  205 

at  the  church,  she  said  softly,  musically — Nanny 
could  rarely  speak  any  other  way  than  in  rare 
melody,  so  beautiful  was  her  voice — "  Forrest, 
I  know  you  will  be  exposed  to  many  things" — 
she  did  not  dare  to  mention  details — ''and  I 
want  you  to  take  this ;  read  it,  too,  every  day, 
won't  you  ?     That's  a  good  boy." 

As  she  spoke,  she  pressed  a  book  into  his 
hands, 

"What  is  it?"  he  asked. 

"It  is  my  Bible.  You  can  put  it  in  your 
haversack  and  keep  it  without  trouble,  can't 
you  ? " 

"  O,  yes ;  but  I  hate  to  take  your  Bible." 

"  There  are  others  at  home.  You  will  read 
it,  too,  won't  you  ? " 

"  I  am  very  much  obliged  to  you,  but  I  hate 
to  rob  you,  I^anny.     You  are  very  kind." 

"  O  you  won't  rob  me.     You  keep  it." 

Forrest,  glad  to  have  it  as  a  keepsake,  was  not 
anxious  to  take  it  as  a  book  to  be  read ;  but 
I^anny  was  desirous,  and  certainly  half  of  the 
time — people  said  oftener — she  carried  her 
point.  Would  she  carry  it  now  ?  Forrest 
Hooper's  conscience  was  not  aroused  yet  to  the 
necessity  of  a  life  for  God.  He  had  certain 
habits  that  had  a  religious  look,  but  there  was  no 
positively  religious  life   behind   them.     If  the 


206     Drummer- Boy  of  the  Rappahannock. 

weather  were  not  too  wet  or  too  cold  he 
steadily  went  to  church  on  Sunday.  If  he  did 
not  forget  it,  or  were  not  too  sleepy,  he  dropped 
at  night  on  his  knees  and  said  ''  Our  Father." 
Pie  looked  into  his  Bible  because  he  had  not  yet 
forsaken  the  Sunday-school,  and  such  attendance 
was  certainly  commendable.  Would  he  now  go 
so  far,  though,  as  to  read  out  of  Nanny's  Bible 
every  day  for  her  sake  ?  This  question  he  was 
not  ready  to  answer  at  once.  Still,  he  did 
not  absolutely  refuse  the  little  book. 

"I  tliank  you,  Kanny,  very  much,  and — I 
will  think  it  over." 

"  O,  Forrest,  you  need  it — or  will  need  it. 
We  ail  do ;  and  you  will  be  at  the  war.  And 
if  it  is  our  heavenly  Fathers  book  we  ought  to 
notice  it,  certainly.  There  are  soldiers  who 
won't  care  to  read  it  and  who  may  despise  it. 
You  won't  be  afraid  to  stand  up  for  it?" 

That  touched  Forrest  in  a  sensitive  place. 
Any  appeal  to  the  "  ought "  within  him,  any 
summons  to  throw  his  strength  on  the  side  of  a 
cause  that  might  be  weak,  any  challenge  to 
stand  up  openly  and  bravelj^  and  steadfastly  in 
defense  of  principle,  was  likely  to  find  a  quick 
response  from  Forrest. 

Captain  Frye  had  educated  him  to  "  promptly 
recognize  the  difference  between  right  and  wrong, 


The  Furlough.  207 

and  take  sides  "  in  belialf  of  wliat  was  riglit. 
Should  there  not  be  a  taking  of  sides  now? 

"Afraid,  Nanny,  to  stand  up  for  the  Bible? 
Why,  no.  I  should  despise  myself  if  I  had  any 
fear.     Only  I  haven't  been  in  the  habit — " 

"Well,  because  we  have  neglected  a  thing 
that  is  right,  is  that  a  reason  why  we  should 
keep  on  neglecting?  And  then,  Forrest,  you 
will  need  it." 

But  Forrest  was  not  yet  open  to  conviction  on 
the  side  of  his  need.  Nanny  could  not  hope- 
fully storm  the  fort  on  that  side.  To  this  at- 
tack, he  only  replied,  "  Dare  say,  dare  say." 

"But  don't  you  think  it  is  right,  and  before 
others  don't  you  dare,  to  stand  np  for  it?" 
asked  Nanny,  promptly  shifting  her  guns  round 
to  another  position. 

"  Of  course  I  do,  Nanny ;  and  I  am  going  to 
think  it  over." 

"  Tell  me  to-night,  Forrest.  Tell  me  at  the 
meeting.     It  will  be — the — last — " 

Her  faltering  voice  touched  Forrest. 

"Nanny,"  he  whispered,  "let  me  think  it 
over.  I  will  tell  you  in  the  church  before  we 
go  out.  I  will  raise  my  hand  if  I  desire  to  do 
it.  You  will  see  it  go  up.  And  here  is  the 
church." 

The  little  building  was  hiding  away  in  the 


208        Drummer-Boy  of  the  RappahannocJc. 

shadows  but  the  lights  were  shining  cheerfully 
through  the  stained  windows,  as  if  trying  to 
keep  up  a  sunset  there  in  the  place  of  the  one 
that  had  vanished  out  of  the  western  sky. 
Soft,  faint  notes  from  the  organ  stole  out  of  the 
open  door-wa;/. 

"It  seems  very  pleasant,"  said  Forrest. 

"  It  is  very  pleasant,"  replied  Nanny,  chang- 
ing a  single  word. 

"  I  know  you  will  miss — I  mean  I  shall  miss 
the  church,  Nanny." 

Would  he  miss  this  one  privilege  ?  He  was 
going  through  an  ugly  experience  that  we  only 
understand  when  on  the  eve  of  losing  something 
long  our  privilege.  He  had  often  said  to  him- 
self but  never  aloud,  "  Didn't  know  going  away 
would  be  so  tough." 

This  last  gathering  for  service  in  the  church 
he  resolved  to  improve  as  faithfully  as  possible. 
He  would  listen  seriously  to  every  word  of 
prayer  that  might  be  offered.  To  every  word 
spoken  he  would  give  attention.  Not  a  syllable 
that  the  minister  uttered  would  he  lose.  He 
would  not  go  to  sleep.  Ah,  how  many  faithful 
little  nudges  Nanny  had  given  him  in  sermon- 
time  to  keep  him  awake. 

"  There,  Nan ! "  he  once  said.  "  I  know  I 
am  all  black  and  blue  where  you  nudged  me." 


The    Farlourjh.  209 

"  Nonsense,  Forrest,  only  a  tap  !  "  Nanny  Lad 
said. 

To-niglit  he  would  not  give  his  faithful  moni- 
tor occasion  to  notice  and  lament  his  remissness. 
When,  in  the  sermon,  he  grew  drowsy,  he 
aroused  himself  by  wondering  if  the  Bowsers 
in  their  seat  two  pews  ahead  remembered  that 
he  had  said  this  wouM  be  his  last  service  at 
church.  Remember  %  "  Miranda  Jane  "  might 
be  mindful  of  the  fact,  but  the  skipper  was  en- 
tirely oblivious  of  it.  He  was  taking  his  cus- 
tomary nap,  for  which  as  yet  his  helpmeet  had 
found  no  remedy  either  in  her  pin-cushion  or 
her  suggestions  in  private.  His  head  was  going 
up  and  down,  up  and  down,  as  regularly  as  the 
M-alking-beam  of  a  steam-boat.  Example  is 
self-communicative.  That  motion  up,  that  mo- 
tion down,  was  very  suggestive.  It  was  very 
fascinating.  A  drowsy  mood  stole  over  the 
young  soldier.  The  voice  of  the  preacher  be- 
came a  soothing,  monotonous  echo.  Forrest's 
'head  went  down,  Forrest's  head  came  up,  and 
soon  Forrest  joined  Skipper  Bowser  in  the  cul- 
prit's retreat  the  land  of  Nod.  By  and  by  the 
people  in  the  land  of  Nod  seemed  to  be  mak- 
ing music,  for  some  reason.  A  musician  was 
starting  nj)  something  that  sounded  like  an  or- 
gan.    Some   of  the   Nodites  began   to  sing  a 


210       Drummer-Boy  of  the  Rappahannock. 

tune  that  Skipper  Bowser  or  some  other  delin- 
quent must  have  carried  to  their  land  from  the 
church.  How  natural  it  did  sound  when — 
suddenly  Forrest  awoke — and  there  was  the 
choir  singing  enthusiastically  the  last  hymn : 

*'  Soldiers  of  Christ,  arise, 
And  put  your  armor  on !  " 

Skipper  Bowser  had  been  rescued  by  his  wife 
from  the  land  of  Nod  in  time  to  take  season- 
able part  in  the  singing  of  that  last  hymn.  He 
was  roaring  out  his  bass  as  heai-tily  and  inno- 
cently as  if  he  had  never  heard  of  the  land  of 
Nod.  Forrest's  first  thought  was,  "•  How  ap- 
propriate this  hymn  is  for  soldiers  going 
away !"  Then  he  wondered  if  the  minister 
had  given  it  out  because  Forrest  Hooper  was 
going  to  the  war. 

Forrest  noticed  Nanny,  Her  eyes  shone  as 
they  always  did  when  her  tears  brightened  them 
into  pearls.  Had  she  been  crying  ?  Her  sweet, 
clear  treble  faltered,  and  soon  she  stopped  and. 
bowed  her  head. 

"Crying  to  see  my  inattention,  I  dare  say!  " 
thought  Forrest,  rubbing  his  eyes  wide  open  and 
springing  to  his  feet.  "  I  really  am  ashamed 
of  myself.  Yes,  I  wonder  if  that  hymn  was 
given  out  for  those  going  to  the  war!  " 


The  Furlough.  211 

Forrest  felt  very  remiss  and  miserable.  He 
had  been  getting  along  every  well  until  that 
nap.  lie  had  not  thought  he  should  need  to 
keep  that  Bible.  He  was  the  soldier-hero  who 
would  do  his  duty  anyway.  In  fact,  he  was 
too  proud  to  take  sides  with  any  thing  he 
thought  wrong.  It  might  be  helpful  for  some 
to  read  tlie  Bible,  and  in  a  general  way  it  might 
be  advisable  for  him.  It  did  not  seem  neces- 
sary, though,  to  make  sure  of  its  reading  every 
day.  But  he  was  very  much  humbled  now. 
He  was  not  tlie  soldier-hero  routing  every  tempta- 
tion, but  a  poor,  fallible,  sleepy  mortal  who  could 
not  keep  his  eyes  open  in  church-time.  What  if 
he  were  a  sentinel  on  duty,  and  after  that  fash- 
ion should  sleep  at  his  post  ?  He  felt  ashamed 
of  himself.  The  closing  prayer  of  the  old  min- 
ister was  for  the  country  and  the  army.  He 
very  affectionately  remembered  tliose  who  might 
be  going  out  "  from  our  neighborhood  to  stand 
up  in  battle  and  defend  their  father-land  "' 

"  That  means  me,"  thought  Forrest,  and  he 
felt  at  the  same  time  ITanny's  trembling  form. 

He  felt  that  he  had  been  a  very  unworthy, 
ungrateful  member  of  the  congregation.  Read 
his  Bible  ?  He  ought  to  read  something.  The 
minister's  devout,  fervent  prayer  was  finished. 
The  benediction   followed.     It   was  then   that 


212       Drummer- Boy  of  the  Rappahannock. 

Nanny,  chancing  to  look  toward  Forrest,  saw 
a  lifted  hand,  not  held  proudly  aloft,  but  sus- 
tained at  an  humble  elevation.  The  next  day 
Forrest  took  ^Nanny's  Bible  away  with  him  in 
his  soldier-pack.  The  parting  was  much  more 
trying  than  Forrest  had  imagined.  Nanny 
knew  it  would  be  hard.  However  badly  he 
might  feel,  Forrest  had  resolved  that  he  would 
not  make  "  a  woman  of  himself  and  cry." 

AVhen  the  parting  came  Aunt  Huldah  tried 
to  say  good-bye,"  but  got  no  farther  than  a 
"  goo — goo,"  at  last  a  "  a  good — de — de,"  and 
busting  into  tears,  rushed  into  the  house.  Nan- 
ny did  say  cheerfully,  "Good-bye,"  for  she  had 
made  as  many  resolutions  to  be  brave  like  For- 
rest. She  attempted,  though,  to  say  when  he 
kissed  her,  "  God  bless  you,  dear  Forrest !  "  In 
what  language  she  expressed  herself,  neither 
she  nor  Forrest  could  ever  say,  for  she  broke 
down  in  the  midst  of  a  torrent  of  mingled  tears 
and  tones,  and  followed  Aunt  Huldah  into  the 
house,  covering  her  face  with  her  hands.  And 
tlie  stoical  Forrest,  this  hero-drummer  of  a  thou- 
sand battles,  he  felt  a  sudden  choking  in  his 
throat  and  the  tears  were  running  copiously 
from  his  eyes.  He  tried  to  smother  every- 
thing with  his  handkerchief  when  he  turned 
and  climbed  into  Skipper  Bowser's  wagon,  that 


The  Furlough.  213 

waited  to  take  him  to  the  railroad-station  at  the 
Port.  The  skipper  saw  him,  and  in  a  quieting 
voice  said : 

"I  wouldn't  feel  bad,  Forrest.  You  will 
come  back  again — " 

"  I — I — hope  so,"  sobbed  Forrest. 

"  And  no  doubt  you'll  come  back,  my  boy,  a 
credit — a  credit — " 

Here  the  skip^jer  abruptly  paused,  and,  pull- 
ing out  a  bandanna  big  enough  to  make  a  ship's 
flag,  turned  his  face  away,  and,  plugging  up  his 
eyes,  gave  his  nose  a  ferocious'  blowing.  Then 
he  seized  the  reins,  and,  catching  up  tlie  whip, 
gave  Old  Billy  a  cut  without  mercy,  crying 
out,  "  You  cantankerous  old  wretch !  We 
sha'n't  git  them  keers." 

"  Why,"  said  Aunt  Huldah,  watching  that  re- 
treating wagon,  "  I  never  saw  Jerry  act  so  with 
his  horse  before." 

Away  went  the  wagon,  the  skipper  turning 
his  head  at  intervals  to  blow  his  tears  through 
his  nose,  and  then  making  to  Forrest  the  most 
irrelevant  remarks,  but  all  intended  to  be  divert- 
ing, while  he  picked  from  the  dictionary  the 
most  forcible  epithets  to  throw  at  the  head  of 
Old  Billy. 

"  Did  you  get  to  the  station  in  time  ? "  his 
wife  asked  him  when  he  returned. 


214       Drummer- Boy  of  the  Rappahannock. 

"  Time !  Had  half  an  hour  to  spare — that 
horse  acted  so,  and  went  hke  Jeliu." 

"  How  did  Forrest  seem  ? " 

"  Cut  lip  ;  a  good  deal^so.  And  that  George, 
what  did  he  do,  but  rush  out  as  we  passed  and 
told  Forrest  that  h^  was  goin'  to  jine  the  array 
and  come,  too,  as  soon  as  he  could !  That  made 
Li-zay  feel  bad.  So  with  Forrest  and  Old  Billy 
I  had  my  hands  full." 

"  Then  Forrest  felt  bad  ?  Poor  boy  !  Now 
you  go  over  and  tell  Nanny  all  about  it, 
Jerry—" 

"  What,  tell  her  Forrest  felt  bad  ?  That  make 
her  feel  better  ?  " 

He  went  obediently,  murmuring  ''  Women 
are  the  strangest  critters." 

Nanny  felt  so  lonely,  that  night,  that  Skipper 
Bowser,  always  "  good  company,"  as  country  folks 
said,  was  doubly  welcome.  "What  I  said  'bout 
Forrest  interested  her,"  the  skipper  afterward 
told  his  wife,  AVheu  he  had  gone.  Aunt  Hul- 
dah  retired  to  her  room.  Nanny  still  continued 
down  stairs  and  watched  the  open  fire.  As  she 
looked  at  its  softly  burning  logs  she  thought 
how  many  homes,  liow  many  hearts,  both  North 
and  South,  were  made  desolate  by  the  departure 
of  kindred  and  friends  fur  the  war.  She  had 
imagined  it  before,  but  now  she  began  to  real- 


The  Furlough.  215 

ize  it,     Tliis  altar,  on  wliicli  slie   was  layinf^  a 
sacrifice,  grew  broader  and  broader  till  its  top 
reached  all  over  the  land,  and  how  many  placed 
thereon  their  sacritice !     And  was  this  sacrifice 
to  be  the  greatest  one?     It  had   been  such  in 
many  lives.    The  little  church  by  the  cemetery 
had  opened  its  doors  again  and  again  to  i-eceive 
the  still  forms  that,  draped  with  their  country's 
flag,  were  borne  slowly  and   reverently  up  the 
aisle.     Nanny  did  not  care  to  think  any  fui-ther ! 
Slie  only  faced  the  fire  sinking  lower  and  lower. 
The  embers  grew  dull  and  ashy.     The  sea-wind 
njoaned  about  the  house.     How  lonely  it  was! 
To-night  she  not  only  missed  Forrest,  but  her 
dear  father.    The  silence  of  the  house,  the  dreary 
silence,  the  emptiness,  the  absence  of  form  and 
sound,    this    nothingness,    oppressed    her  more 
than  the  heaviest    burden.     It  was  a  relief  to 
take  up  her  Bible.     She  and  Forrest  had  agreed 
to  read  the  same  chapters  each  day.     To-night 
it  was  the   very  first   psalm.      She  wanted    to 
I'ead  something   besides.      She   opened   to    the 
Ninetieth  Psalm:  "Lord,  thou  hast  been  our 
dwelling-place."     Yes,  our  quiet  dwelling-place, 
for  the  thought  tends  that  way.     To-night  she 
wanted  to  creep  under  shelter,  to  find  a  qniet 
refuge  from  the  storm  breaking  down  upon  her. 
To-morrow  she  would  be  brave;    to-night  she 


216     Drummer-Boy  of  the  Rcqypahannock. 

only  wanted  to  be  sheltered  and  to  trust.  That  is 
our  privilege  to-niglit ;  to  be  weak  and  trustful 
and  lie  helpless  and  still  in  God's  arms.  In  the 
thought  of  that  assurance,  Nanny  found  peace 
and  so  began  her  sleep.  To-morrow  she  would 
gird  up  her  soul  and  be  a  warrior  in  the  fight ; 
to-night,  though,  only  a  babe  in  the  mother's 


By  the  RappcUuuDiock.  217 


CHAPTER  XIIL 

BY     THE     RAPPAHANNOCK. 

THE  army  of  the  Potomac  was  on  its  way  to 
tlio  R-appahannock.  Tlie  battle  of  Antietam, 
or  Sliarpsbiirg,  had  been  fought  in  September, 
1862,  and  both  the  Confederate  and  Federal 
armies  were  now  south  of  the  Potomac.  Forrest 
Hooper  had  beaten  his  drum  at  the  front  for 
the  first  time  at  Antietam,  and  was  to-day  in 
the  blue-coated  columns  moving  toward  the 
Rappahannock,  He  had  been  interested  in 
the  march  down  through  Virginia.  Autumn 
had  reddened  the  forests,  or  putting  the  dull, 
faded  emerald  of  the  foliage  into  its  crucibles, 
transmuted  all  to  a  magic  vivid  gold.  The 
Blue  Ridge  Mountains  had  bordered  with  a 
frame  of  amethyst  these  glories.  Forrest  was 
not  accustomed  to  mountain  scenery  and  it  fasci- 
nated him.  So  ethereal  were  those  hills,  so  un- 
substantial and  mist-like  did  they  seem,  that 
Forrest  wondered  whether,  after  a  night  of 
strong  winds,  they  might  not  be  blown  away. 
Every  morning,  though,  there  they  were — rising 


218     Drummer- Boij  of  the  Rdppahannock. 

up  against  the  western  sky,  glorious,  peaceful, 
stable — the  everlasting  hi41s.  It  hardly  seemed 
to  the  drinntnei'-boy  as  if,  amid  these  peaceful 
glories  of  the  landscape,  war  harsh  and  violent 
could  have  any  place.  The  facts,  however, 
Forrest  was  daily  witnessing.  Pie  would  mai-cli 
past  some  chinmey  rising  out  of  a  big  ash-heap, 
the  desolate  monument  marking  the  spot  where 
had  stood  a  house  fired  in  the  war.  He  would 
liear  a  fierce  rumbling  in  an  adjacent  road,  and 
a  grim  battery  would  go  by,  or  up  would  ride  a 
detachment  of  cavalry,  and  clattering  and  clank- 
ing they  would  drive  past  him.  A  ti-ain  of 
lieavj^  baggage-wagons  might  be  heard  as  they 
bumped  and  jolted  over  the  road.  Tlie  army 
of  the  Potomac,  previously  commanded  by 
General  McClellan,  had  received  in  November 
a  new  commander,  General  Burnside.  He  had 
ordered  his  army  into  the  long  road  that  would 
ultimately  lead  to  Richmond,  granting  that  the 
way  was  unobstructed.  He  was  now  heading 
for  the  Rappahannock  River,  long  since  historic, 
and  he  expected  to  cross  it  at  Fredericksburg. 
Forrest  was  feeling  the  weariness  of  this  march, 
day  after  day.  Plucky  and  resolute,  he  would 
make  no  complaint  to  his  comrades,  but  Av^thin 
he  often  said,  "I  would  like  to  lie  down  and 
rest  a  week." 


By  the  Etqjpahannock.  219 

Tt  was  a  mild  November  afternoon,  when  lie 
felt  more  than  usually  tired,  and  the  welcome  or- 
der to  halt  rang  down  the  line  of  the  long,  toiling 
columns  at  half-past  three.  It  was  greeted  with 
a  shout.  That  lengthening  row  of  men  broke 
up  as  suddenly  as  the  collapsing  of  a  tent  when 
a  tornado  strikes  it.  Away  they  went  to  right 
and  left,  dropping  beside  the  rail-fences  that 
bordered  the  road.  On  either  hand  was  a  pict- 
uresque old  forest  of  oak  that  echoed  with  the 
laugh  and  shouts  of  the  merry  soldiei'S.  Some 
pulled  out  their  old  army  pipes  and  quietly 
and  contentedly  began  to  smoke.  Others  in 
little  groups  were  talking  about  some  odd  ad- 
venture that  day,  or  discussed  the  route  ahead, 
how  far  off  the  Rappahannock  might  be, 
whether  Burnside  or  Lee,  the  Confederate  com- 
mander, would  get  first  to  Fredericksburg,  and 
whether  any  trace  of  the  enemy  had  been  seen 
that  day.  Suddenly  the  word  was  passed  along 
that  the  halt  would  be  for  an  hour  at  least. 
The  old  muskets  were  here  and  there  stacked  at 
once,  and  soldiers  were  seen  running  for  the 
top  rail  of  the  section  of  fence  near  them.  Fire- 
wood was  abundant,  and  soon  the  little  camp- 
fires  began  to  smoke  along  the  line  of  the  road. 
From  the  stuffed  haversacks  came  the  coffee 
rations.     There  was  an  appetizing  odor  quickly 


220     Drum) tie)'- Boy  of  the  Rappahannock. 

in  the  air,  and  coffee  and  hard-tack  were  dis- 
patched eagerly.  A  few  broiled  a  piece  of  pork 
to  give  the  biscuit  a  flavor.  Forrest,  bowing 
on  his  drnm,  appreciated  this  opportunity  for 
strengthening  the  inner  man,  but  something  else 
he  wanted  more. 

"  O  !  "  he  said,  bowing  his  head  lower.  "  This 
poor  drummer-boy  wants  to — to — go  to  sleep." 

He  suddenly  raised  his  head.  He  looked 
around  him.  He  saw  tlie  twinkling  fires  in  the 
road.  He  scented  the  coffee  and  the  crisp,  brown 
pork.  He  heard  the  merry  sound  of  the  laughter 
echoing  among  the  men,  and  caught  the  notes  of 
a  resonant  song  from  a  soldier  in  the  woods. 

"  Those  woods! "  thought  Forrest.  "  How  com- 
fortable they  look !  What  a  uice  rest  a  fel- 
low could  have  over  there  !  Going  to  stop  here 
an  hour  at  least,  are  we  ?  Then  I  mean  j  ust  to 
have  a  small  nap  !  " 

He  squirmed  between  the  rails  back  of  him, 
crawled  to  the  base  of  an  old  oak,  and  then 
wormed  round  to  the  side  towai'd  the  forest,  and, 
leaning  his  head  back  against  the  trunk,  shut  his 
eyes  and — did  the  next  thing :  he  went  to  sleej). 
His  drum  was  between  his  legs.  One  hand 
clutched  his  drum-sticks;  in  the  other  was  a  let- 
ter that  the  army-mail  had  brought  him  that 
morning,  before  the  wearisome  uiarch  of  the  day 


By  the  Rappahannock.  221 

was  begun.  It  was  a  letter  from  JS'anny.  She 
had  110  complaint  to  make  of  any  hardsliips  at 
home,  but  wrote  in  a  brave,  hopeful  way,  telling 
Forrest  that  he  must  remember  that  Christmas 
was  coming,  and  he  would  have  a  package  from 
home.  It  was  in  a  letter  from  Skipper  Bowser, 
whose  indignation  boiled  over  into  his  letter,  that 
Forrest  learned  that  Gilbert  French  was  press- 
ing Nanny  for  the  payment  of  some  of  her 
father's  debts,  but  if  Forrest  heard  of  it  he  must 
not  worry,  for  the  skipper  would  not  see  her 
homeless.     "  Keep  quiet,"  he  wrote. 

As  Forrest  had  not  known  that  Gilbert  was 
turning  the  grindstone  with  any  special  alacrity, 
the  letter  from  the  skipper  had  any  thing  but  a 
quieting  effect  on  him.  Gilbert  French,  because 
J^anny  would  not  be  his  "  friend,"  had  per- 
sistently and  repeatedly  annoyed  her.  At  meas- 
ured intervals  he  would  present  himself,  saying 
a  note  her  father  had  given  him  must  be  paid  or 
he  would  begin  a  lawsuit.  Captain  Frye  was  a 
better  man  for  other  people's  interests  than  his 
own,  and  had  never  conducted  his  business  in  a 
thoroughly  methodical  way.  He  went  so  quickly 
over  the  threshold  of  another  life  that  he  had 
no  time  to  turn  round  and  say  what  should  be 
done  about  the  things  that  had  been  his  in  this 
life.     The  making  of  a  will  is  a  concern  for  our 


222       Drummer-Boy  of  the  Rappahannock. 

calm  inoiueiits  of  health,  not  for  those  of  our 
eickiiess  and  dyhig. 

"I  only  wish  father  had  left  his  accounts  so 
that  I  could  know  how  his  debts  stood,  for  I 
don't  believe  father  owed  Gilbert  French  all  he 
claims,"  Nanny  would  sometimes  say;  "*but 
there — I  can't  prove  any  tiling.  Gilbert  sends 
me  these  notes,  which  have  father's  signature, 
and  I  can't  deny  them.  However,  I  won't 
be  Gilbert's  particular  friend,  and  nuirry  him,  if 
I  have  to  go  barefoot." 

Gilbert  French  wonld  send  his  "  confidential 
clerk  "  at  the  distillery,  one  Pickard,  and  when 
Nanny  saw  him  out  in  the  road  she  trembled. 
She  knew  he  would  bring  a  new  demand  from 
Gilbert.  The  appearance  of  the  clerk  was  pecul- 
iar. There  was  a  general  aspect  of  pointedness 
to  the  man.  This  was  owing  in  part  to  the  shape 
of  his  hat.  It  was  of  silk  and  always  had  a  con- 
ical crown.  But  many  other  things  about  him 
seemed  to  come  to  a  point.  There  was  his  nose. 
Forrest  used  to  say  that  one  smart  blow  on  the 
back  of  the  head  would  drive  him  like  a  nail 
into  any  board  before  him.  There  was  his  chin  ; 
that  also  came  to  a  point.  His  clothes  had  a 
way  of  nipping  him,  and  each  bony  arm  and 
each  bony  leg  seemed  to  come  to  a  point  also. 
And  that  his  tongue  also  came  to  a  point,  and 


Bu  the  llappahannock.  223 

he  could  sting  with  his  words,  every  body  knew. 
A  sluirper,  thornier  rascal  could  not  be  found. 

One  piece  of  Nanny's  belongings  after  another 
had  been  sacrificed  in  response  to  the  greed  of 
this  messenger.  The  blacksmith's  shop,  "the 
lower  meadow,"  "  the  barn  in  the  woods,"  two 
carts,  a  sleigh,  a  cow,  had  been  yielded  up  to 
satisfy  the  appetite  of  the  monster,  but  ic  was 
like  throwing  chips  into  the  crater  of  Etna, 
thinking  to  pacify  and  stop  it. 

"Gilbert  can't  take  the  house,"  Nanny  had 
often  said. 

No ;  but  that  was  because  another  jiarty  had, 
by  mortgage,  previously  devoured  a  part  of  it. 
Two  rooms  Aunt  Huldah  could  call  hers. 

On  the  mortgage  Nanny  and  Aunt  Iluldah 
tried  to  keep  the  interest  well  paid  up.  To  do 
it  and  meet  other  demands  kept  them  working 
hard  by  day,  and  sometimes  worrying  by  night. 

To  Gilbert  Nanny  had  surrendered  a  portion 
of  the  beloved  Lion.  To  his  head  she  fondly 
clung,  for  on  the  Lion's  head  was  the  old  pine 
that  extended  its  benedictions  over  the  spot 
where  she  and  Forrest  had  so  often  sat.  In  her 
letters  to  Forrest  she  said  nothing  of  these  trials. 
The  letter  wliich  the  drummer-boy  received  the 
morning  of  the  march,  in  this  chapter,  said 
nothing  about  Gilbert.     The  skipper  denounced 


224     Drummer-Boy  of  the  liajypahannock. 

hiin  to  the  drummer-boy.  Sleej),  thoui^h,  is  that 
beneficent  force  leveling  our  rough  ways  and 
bridging  our  deep  streams,  and  for  Forrest  that 
work  of  leveling  and  bridging  was  now  done. 
He  saw  Nanny  in  his  dreams;  he  saw  the  old 
homestead,  and  the  sunshine  was  upon  it,  and 
IS^anny  stood  in  the  door-way.  She  came  to  him 
and  spoke  to  him.  How  much  of  his  sleep  was 
covered  by  this  dream  he  could  not  say. 

This  bowed  young  sleeper  in  the  old  Yirgin- 
ian  forest,  the  November  wind  making  a  light, 
agreeable  music  in  his  ears  as  it  touched  and 
rustled  the  withering  oak-leav^es  above,  took  no 
measurement  of  the  time  in  that  delightful  rest. 

His  dream  was  becoming  very  vivid.  Nanny 
was  advancing  toward  him,  her  hand  out- 
stretched, her  eyes  beaming,  her  voice  making 
sweeter  music  than  any  forest  wind,  as  she  said, 
"  O  Forrest,  I  want  to  tell  you.  They  have 
concluded  to  promote  you,  and  make  you  a  big 
major  general  of  all  the  drummers,  and  3'ou  are 
to  have  your  head-quarters  at  home,  and  do  your 
drumming  there,  and  they  can  hear  you  down  in 
the  army.  Come  !  I'll  never  say  a  word  if  you  beat 
your  drum  all  day  and  all  night.  Qome  !  "  He 
heard  her  musical  voice.  He  felt  the  warm,  con- 
fiding touch  of  her  hand  as  she  extended  it.  He 
rose  to  go  home  and  beat  there  his  drum  for  free- 


By  the  Rappahannock.  225 

dom,  when  suddenly  be  felt  a  blow  on  the  bead, 
and  beard  Gilbert  French's  ras23ing  voice  say. 
"  That  is  the  drum  I  want  to  beat !  Take  that ! " 

He  awoke  at  once,  and  he  was  alone  in  the  dark 
somewhere,  and  through  this  blackness  he  heard 
oak-leaves  rustling  overhead.  In  his  lap  was  his 
drum,  but  lying  across  it  he  felt  a  rough,  ragged 
branch.  He  rose  to  his  feet,  and  through  the 
mysterious  blackness  above  him  he  saw,  far 
away,  little  white  stars,  while  that  sound  of  rus- 
tling, withering  oak-leaves  was  repeated  between 
him  and  the  little  white  stars. 

"  Bah  !  "  he  muttered.  "  I  know  where  I 
am — down  in  that  old  Virginia  forest !  And  a 
dead  branch  tumbled  down  and  struck  me.  Well, 
good-by.  dear  Nanny  !  Don't  worry  !  I'm  glad 
we  are  not  so  far  away  after  all.  And  the  war 
will  be  over  soon,  I  hope,  and  I  will  hx  that  Gil- 
bert French.  ]N"ow  I  must  get  out  of  this  scrape  ; 
and  where's  my  regiment?  O  what  a  fool  I  was 
to  go  sleep !  No,  I  won't  say  that,  for  I  wouldn't 
have  seen  Nanny.  But  they  have  all  tramped 
on,  and  who  knows  where  they  are !  " 

He  was  now  looking  over  the  rail-fence  into 
the  road  that  a  few  hours  before  was  full  of  chat- 
tering soldiers  and  twinkling  camp-fires.  Now 
it  was  still  and  dark.  But  hark  !  He  heard  the 
piercing,  echoing  notes  of  a  bugle. 


226     Drummer- Boy  of  the  Rcqypahannock. 

"  Good ! "  he  exclaimed.     "  I'll  go  for  that ! " 

He  sprang  over  the  fence  and  started  in  the 
direction  of  the  bngle-notes.  He  abruptly  halted. 
"Who  could  say  whether  it  might  be  a  IS^orthern 
or  a  Southern  bugle  ?  And  hark,  again  !  He 
caught  the  sound  of  clattering  hoofs.  Somebody 
on  horseback  rode  by,  and,  from  the  sound  of 
the  clanking  equipments,  he  knew  it  was  a  cav- 
alryman. Then  he  heard  a  shout  in  the  rear, 
and  up  rode  a  party  of  horsemen,  one  of  whom 
sent  a  pistol-shot  somewhere,  jjrobably  after  the 
man  ahead. 

"  Coming  pretty  close  home!"  muttered  the 
drummer-boy  down  by  the  darkened  roadside. 
"  Wonder  if  those  were  Johnnies  after  Yanks 
or  Yanks  after  Johnnies  !  I  would  like  to  know 
whether  I  am  inside  of  our  lines  or  not.  What, 
if  the  Johnnies  gobbled  me  up  ?  " 

That  made  him  shiver.  But  lie  must  do 
sometliino;,  and  he  slowly  moved  alonor  the  road. 
He  had  not  gone  far  before  he  saw  a  faint  flash 
over  in  the  woods.  It  was  onl)"  a  flash,  for  dark- 
ness quickly  took  its  place.  Then  it  came  again, 
and  as  suddenly  went. 

"That's  queer!"  reflected  Forrest.  "And 
there  it  is  again  !  " 

A  reddish-yellow  light  once  more  flashed  up, 
and  then  passed  away. 


By  the.  RappaliiUinoch,  1\L^i 

"That  is  queer,"  said  the  inquisitive  druin- 
iner-boy;  and,  climbing  the  rail-fence  on  the 
right  hand  side  of  the  road,  moved  toward  tliis 
mysteriously  coming  and  vanishing  radiance- 
How  queer  it  all  seemed  !  He  wondered  whether 
he  really  had  been  a  tired  drummer,  who,  leav- 
ing a  road  noisy  with  soldiers,  had  gone  over 
into  the  woods,  and  there  had  dreamed  about 
Nanny  Frye.  Hadn't  he  always  been  moving 
through  dark  woods  like  these,  and  was  not  the 
past  a  fiction  ?  ISTo  ;  there  was  his  drum  giving 
a  hard  form  to  some  other  kind  of  a  life,  and  in  his 
breast-pocket,  next  to  his  heart,  was  a  little  book 
given  by  a  person  in  a  previous  period  of  his 
history.  He  liked  to  feel  it  there.  Old  soldiers 
who  swore,  and  used  all  kinds  of  disreputable 
language,  had  yet  told  him  there  was  a  charm 
about  a  Bible  carried  next  to  the  heart.  Cer- 
tainly Nanny's  Bible  carried  next  to  the  heart 
would  keep  him  if  any  thing  could.  But — what 
about  that  soft,  strange,  coming-and-going  illu- 
mination before  him  ? 

He  went  on  cautiously  as  possible,  stepping  as 
lightly  as  he  could  on  the  dead  twigs  and  with- 
ered leaves,  and  came  near  enough  to  be  able 
to  say,  "  Must  be  a  camp-fire  in  a  low  place ! 
Are  they  our  folks  or  Johnnies — Southerners  ? " 

Forrest  passionately  loved  an  adventure,  and 


228     Drummer-Boy  of  the  Rappahannock. 

eagerly  but  cautiously  pressed  ahead.  Dropping 
on  his  liands  and  knees  he  crept  slowly  toward 
the  light,  and  peeped  over  the  edge  of  a  deep 
hollow.  What  if  a  capture  could  be  effected, 
and  he  be  the  captor  ? 

"  Fire  there  !  "  he  said,  silently.  "  Man  too. 
Blue  or  gray  ?" 

A  solitary  soldier  was  sitting  down  in  a  hol- 
low, where  he  had  kindled  a  small  camp-fire. 
Whether  the  man  wore  a  blue  coat  or  a  gray  one 
was  a  very  important  question. 

"  If  he  be  a  Southerner  shall  1  try  to  take  him 
prisoner?  Yes,  sir!"  queried  and  answered 
Forrest.  "  He  has  got  his  back  turned  toward 
me.     Wouldn't  it  be  a  lucky  thing — " 

i^o ;  it  was  an  unlucky  thing  that  happened 
here,  for  Forrest,  leaning  over  the  edge  of  the 
hollow,  lost  his  balance,  and  down  he  rolled  into 
the  hollow,  while  the  stranger  jumped  up,  shout- 
ing, "  Zounds !     What's  comin' !  " 

The  next  moment  Forrest  was  bumping  into 
this  stranger,  but  valorously  shouting,  "My 
prisoner !  " 

"  Don't  know  about  that,  young  man  !  You've 
got  on  a  blue  coat,  and  so  have  I,"  said  the  man, 
cooll3\ 

"  O  !  "  said  Forrest,  sheepishly,  and  trying  to 
laugh,  "I  beg  pardon — " 


By  the  RappahannocJc.  229 

"  You  needn't,  comrade — but,  look  out !  There 
goes  your  drum  into—" 

]^o  ;  the  occupant  of  the  hollow  sprang  for- 
ward, arid  rescued  Forrest's  drum,  which  had 
slipped  from  its  wearer,  and  was  rolling  into  the 
fire. 

"  Tliank  you  !  Well,  I  didn't  mean  to  make 
this  fuss.     I  saw  your  light — " 

"  That's  right !  Make  yourself  to  hum.  What 
regiment?" 

"  The  Tenth." 

"That's  mine." 

"  Is  it  ?     Good  !  " 

"And  there's  my  drum,  too.  We  do  the 
same  thing  for  a  livin'." 

"  But  I  never  saw  you  before." 

"  O,  I  only  j'ined  this  regiment  lately." 

"  Well,"  said  Forrest,  laughing,  "  are  you  sure 
you  belong  to  it  now  ?  Do  you  know  where  you 
are  now  ? " 

"  O,  we  are  inside  the  lines.  Soon  as  it  is 
daylight  I  am  going  to  move  on,  and  ketch  up 
if  I  can.  I — I — sat  down  when  we  halted,  and 
shut  my  eyes,  and  that's  the  last  I  knew.  When 
I  woke  up,  I  was  alone,  and  I  reconnoitered  well 
as  I  could  in  the  dark,  and  made  up  my  mind  to 
have  a  fire  if  I  could  put  it  where  it  would  be 
out  of  sio-ht.    No  knowin'  how  near  we  are  to  the 


230     Drummer- Boy  of  the  Rappahannock. 

tail-end  of  the  army,  and  ifliglit  be  gobbled  up. 
I  stumbled  down  into  this  thing,  and  I  revenged 
myself  by  scorchin'  it  with  a  fire.  And  you  got 
left,  too  ? " 

"  That's  how  it  was.  Got  asleep  over  in  the 
woods —     Say  !  " 

Forrest  had  broken  off  suddenly,  and  stared 
into  the  man's  features  swept  by  flashes  from 
the  lowdy  little  camp-tire. 

"Haven't  I  seen  you  bc3fore?" 

"Shouldn't  w^onder !  Tliis  world  is  small. 
Ain't  much,  compared  with  a  world  like  Jupiter, 
they  say." 

"But  I  mean,  out  of  the  army.  Your  voice 
sounds  natural.  Haven't  I  seen  you  outside 
the  army  ? " 

The  man  looked  at  Forrest. 

"  Why  —  yes — I  guess  you  have — and  you 
are — " 

The  two  stared  at  one  another  in  helpless 
confusion,  trying  to  recall  a  past  which  would 
slip  away  froui  them,  in  spite  of  hard  efforts  to 
grasp  it. 

"  0,1  know  now!"  exclaimed  Forrest.  "Didn't 
you  come  to  our  place  in  a  yacht  and — " 

"  O,  I  see  !  I  see !  You  that  Cap'n  Frye's  boy  ? 
Now,  you  ain't ;  are  you  ?  Why,  I'm  Griffin  ! 
If  things  don't  happen  queer !     O  land  ! " 


By  the  RupiKihamiock.  231 

Griffin,  the  ex-yaclitsraan,  had  seized  Forrest's 
arm,  and,  twisting  him  round  until  he  fronted 
the  fire,  was  looking  into  his  face. 

"  It's  you,  sure  as  you're  born  !  Comrade,  I 
give  ye  welcome  !  Take  any  thing  you  see,  and 
stop  long  as  you  want  to ! " 

"  That's  hospitable." 

"  JSTow  set  down,  and  tell  us  how  all  the  folks 
are :  that  Skipper  Bowser,  and  that  tramp,  and 
that  gal — I  forget  her  name,  but  slie  had  a  pretty 
voice  as  ever  I  seed  on  one." 

It  was  pleasant  to  find  some  one  who  had  ever 
seen  Skipper  Bowser,  and  delightful  to  tell 
about  N'anny  Frye,  especially  as  Forrest  could 
turn  his  blushing  face  away  from  tlie  fire,  and 
let  it  be  seen  only  by  the  stars,  whicli  tell  no 
tales.  As  for  the  tramp,  Forrest  could  not  tell 
all  that  he  knew  without  reviving  that  ugly  story 
of  Forrest's  asserted  theft. 

"  The  last  I  knew  of  the  tramp,"  he  said,  "he 
was  in  ISTew  York." 

"  O,  I  spect  he  is  a-trampin'  round  somewhere, 
and  will  turn  up  here  some  time." 

Here  Griffin  gave  a  yawn. 

"  I  s'pose  we'd  better  turn  in  ;  hadn't  we  ?" 

"  Yes." 

"  We'll  be  up  early  in  the  mornin'  and  start 
off,  if  you  say  so." 


232      Drummer-Boy  of  the  Rappahannock. 

"When  GrifBn  said  "  turn  in,"  lie  did  not  mean 
turning  in  to  a  shelter.  Each  soldier  was  pro- 
vided with  what  was  called  a  half-shelter.  It 
was  a  piece  of  cotton  drilling  about  five  feet 
two  inches  long,  and  four  feet  eight  inches  wide. 
Each  piece  liad  its  corner  holes  for  stake  loops. 
These  half-shelters  had  also  their  button-holes 
and  buttons.  Two  soldiers,  buttoning  their  half- 
shelters  together,  had  a  roof  between  them  and 
the  sky.  Soldiers  on  the  march,  though,  did  not 
care  for  this  protection  if  the  night  were  pleas- 
ant. They  would  wrap  themselves  in  their 
blankets,  and  stretch  out  under  the  friendly 
stars,  and  enjoy  a  good  night's  rest.  The  shel- 
ter-tent, tliongh,  in  other  weather,  would  be 
very  acceptable.  Two  soldiers  would  stick  their 
muskets,  the  bayonets  fixed,  into  the  ground. 
The  distance  between  the  muskets  would  be 
that  of  a  half-shelter.  A  guy -rope,  which 
accompanied  every  half-shelter,  would  be  run 
from  the  trigger-guard  of  one  musket  to  that  of 
the  other.  Of  course,  two  forked  sticks  could 
be  used  instead  of  the  guns.  Over  the  rope 
would  be  stretched  the  little  tent,  and  under  it 
would  creep  two  wearied  children  of  Mars. 
Forrest  and  Griffin  did  not  need  a  tent  the  night 
they  met.  They  stretched  out  in  their  blankets 
under  the  lee  of  a  great  oak. 


By  the  Rappahannock.  233 

Forrest  had  done  one  thing  that  night  which 
attracted  the  attention  of  Griffin.  Before  he  left 
the  little  camp-fire  down  in  the  hollow  he  pulled 
out  of  his  breast-pocket  Nanny's  Bible  and  read 
a  psahn. 

"  What  you  doin'  ? "  inquired  Griffin. 

"  O,  reading." 

Should  he  tell  Griffin  wdiat  it  was  ?  Forrest 
had  found  out  in  the  army  that  some  of  the  sol- 
diers thoroughly  respected  the  Bible  and  read  it. 
Otiiers  slighted  it.  A  small  minority  sneered 
at  it.  It  sometimes  took  a  stiff  backbone  of 
character  in  one  to  stand  up  squarely  on  the  side 
of  the  Bible.  It  took  a  stitfer  backbone  to  con- 
stantly read  it.  Forrest  was  only  human  because 
he  looked  at  his  new  chum,  and  because  his  hand 
on  Nanny's  Bible  hesitated  about  bringing  it 
out  and  opening  it. 

"  Take  sides,  Forrest ! "  he  seemed  to  hear 
Captain  Frj^e  saying,  and  out  came  Nanny's 
Bible  promptly. 

Griffin  saw  it. 

When  Forrest,  wrapped  In  his  blanket,  had 
stretched  out  beside  Griffin,  the  latter  said  : 

"  If — if  you  will  let  me  ask  you — was  that  the 
Bible  you  were  readin'  ? " 

"  Yes,  it  was." 

"  I  don't  know  what  my  old  mother  would  say." 


234     Drummer- Boy  of  the  Rappahannock. 

"Why  so?" 

"  O,  when  I  left  home  I  told  her  I  would  read 
it  every  day,  'Twould  tickle  her  to  death  if 
I  did  read  it.  I  ought  to  give  the  old  woman 
more  comfort." 

"  I  iiaven't  any  mother — none  living." 

"  You  haven't  ?  Well,  now,"  said  Griffin,  in  a 
tone  of  new  and  sudden  interest,  as  if  pitying  his 
young  brother-drummer,  "  see  here  !  Hadn't  we 
better  tent  together  ?  I  want  a  kind  of  stiddy  chap 
like  you — but  there  !    You  may  have  a  chum  ! " 

"  No,  I  haven't.  I  didn't  like  the  boy  I  was 
with — we  didn't  think  alike,  j'^ou  know — and  we 
agreed  to  break  partnership." 

"  I  want  a  partner,  and  I  guess  we  had  better 
hitcli  on  together,  and  you  want  some  body,  you 
know,  who  won't  make  fun  of  you  when  you 
read  that  book — " 

"  That  will  be  pleasant." 

"  O,  I  know  we  shall  get  along  together." 

It  was  a  true  prophecy.  The  partnership 
proved  an  agreeable  one.  Where  two  soldiers 
tented  together,  one  sometimes  was  known  as 
"  the  old  man,"  and  the  other  as  "  the  old  woman." 
Forrest  generally  referred  to  Griffin  as  "  the  old 
man"  or  " Cy,"  as "  the  old  man"  in  full  wrote 
his  name  Cyrus  Griffin.  He  on  the  other  hand 
generally  spoke  of  Forrest  as  "  junior  partner  " 


By  the  Rappahannock.  235 

or  "  Bub,"  never  as  "the  old  woman,"  but  some- 
times as  "  joung  lady." 

Before  tliej  went  to  sleej^  that  night  Forrest 
remarked  : 

"  Did  you  see  any  cavalry  go  by  before  I 
came  ? " 

"  Heard  an  awful  racket  out  in  the  road,  and 
a  pistol,  I  thought.     What  was  it  ?  " 

"  Don't  know.     They  were  after  somebody." 

"  Was  he  much  aliead  ?  " 

"A  pretty  good  piece.  I  couldn't  make  out 
any  thing  very  clearly,  only  that  somebody  was 
going  it,  and  some  other  folks  were  chasing  hard." 

"  Probably  some  of  our  people  cliasin'  a  gray- 
back.  Those  Southerners  are  cuttin'  round  at 
all  hours." 

"  Where  do  you  think  we  shall  have  the  next 
brush  with  them  ? " 

"  I  wish  it  might  be  Eichmond.  Well,  I'm 
sleepy.  I  wish  'em  well— and  as  I  feel  good- 
natured,  and  won't  touch  them,  I  hope  they 
won't  trouble  me.     Good  night ! " 

"  Good  night !  " 

In  a  moment  "  the  old  man  "  spoke  again. 

"  O,  did  you  leave  much  fire  down  in  that 
holler?" 

"Not  much.  I  was  afraid  somebody  might 
see  it,  out  in  the  road." 


236      Drummer- Boy  of  the  Rappahannock. 

"  Well,  good  luck  to  'em.  If  any  Johnnies 
come  this  way,  may  they  go  and  gobble  up'  the 
next  ciimp — no,  may  they  behave  decent  and  go 
home.  -  Good  night !  " 

"  Good  night !  " 

For  a  little  while  Forrest  lay  in  silence,  look- 
ing at  the  stars  far  above  the  forest,  those  little 
camp-fires  burning  in  heavenly  hollows.  He 
was  thankful  for  company  ;  thankful,  too,  for  the 
knowledge  that  he  was  in  Union  lines.  He  won- 
dered where  that  fugitive  horseman  was,  whether 
he  might  be  riding  on  and  on.  He  saw  that 
shadowy  figure  darting  by  in  the  night-time. 
He  imagined  his  flight  through  the  Ibrests  out 
into  the  open  country,  through  the  villages,  on 
and  on  and  on  and  on — 

Forrest  was  asleep.  That  is  one  excellent 
way  of  going  to  sleep :  to  restrict  our  thoughts 
to  one  route,  to  a  steam-car  route,  it  may  be,  and 
follow  it,  follow,  follow — till  the  tired  courier 
shuts  his  eyes  and  tumbles  down  into  a  deep 
Jiole  lined  with  soft  cushions  and  called — sleep. 

Forrest  was  in  this  cushion-lined  hole  of  for- 
getfulness  for  several  hours  and  then  awoke. 
What  awoke  him  he  could  not  say,  but  chancing 
to  turn  over  in  his  unmattressed  bed,  that  he 
might  avoid  a  small  tree-root,  he  caught  a  flash 
of  light  from  the  fire  in  the  hollow. 


Jjy  the  Rappaliannodx.  237 

"  Why,  how  is  tliat  ? "  wondered  Forrest.  "  I 
did  not  leave  enough  tire  there  to  last  till  this 
time.     I'll  see  what  that  means." 

He  threw  off  his  blanket,  rose,  and  went 
toward  the  fire-flashes.  He  looked  over  the  edge 
of  the  hollow  and  there  was  a  man — bare-headed, 
his  back  turned  toward  the  road  and  his  hands 
extended  toward  the  flames  which  he  had  evi- 
dently fed  from  a  little  pile  of  brush  gathered 
by  Griffin.     Could  it  be  Griffin  ?     It  must  be. 

"Old  man,  that  you?  Can't  you  sleep?" 
asked  Forrest. 

]^^o  "  old  man  "  could  have  sjjrung  out  of  that 
hollow  quicker  than  its  present  occupant.  As 
he  rose  he  snatched  from  the  ground  a  broad- 
brimmed,  slouching  hat,  of  a  style  \vhich  the 
Confederates  liked  to  wear  when  they  were  rich 
enough  to  have  their  choice ;  and  this  hat  estab- 
lished the  man's  army  relations.  Besides,  the 
fire  now  between  him  and  Forrest  lighted  np 
his  uniform,  which  was  plainly  gray.  And  there 
was  this  fine  opportunity  for  a  Confederate 
prize,  which  would  make  Forrest  a  hero  in  his 
regiment,  springing  up  out  of  that  hollow  and 
vanishing  into  the  night ! 

"  Halt !  "  screamed  Forrest,  giving  chase  round 
the  edge  of  the  hollow.  "  Halt !  my  prisoner ! 
Halt,  I  say!" 


238       Drummer- Boy  of  the  R'l'ppahannock. 

Tiirninp:  Lis  head  sliglitlj  as  lie  ran,  he 
shrieked  to  his  partner,  "  Help-p-p-p." 

And  lielp  came — pell-mell,  tumbling,  jump- 
ing, hooting,  tearing  along — in  the  shape  of  "  the 
old  man,"  whose  boast  it  was  that  he"allers 
slept  with  one  eye  open  and  one  ear  ont."  But 
neither  the  deer,  Forrest,  nor  the  tornado.  Griffin, 
cuuld  have  overtaken  that  fleeing  "  butter-nut," 
had  it  not  been  that,  running  in  the  shadows 
and  amid  obstacles,  he  hit  his  foot  against  a 
root  protruding  from  the  ground,  and  down  and 
over  he  went ! 

"Now  I  got  ve  1 "  growled  Forrest,  throwing 
himself  upon  his  prize. 

"  Me  too ! "  grunted  the  old  man,  covering 
any  part  of  this  capture  lie  could  find. 

Griffin  was  a  person  of  great  strength.  His 
hands  had  a  grip  like  iron,  and  tliough  the 
Confederate  squirmed  spasmodically  it  was  of 
no  use. 

"  Let — me — up  !  "  he  gasped.  "  I'll — go — 
with— ye ! " 

"Bub,  you  boss  this  job.  Goin'  to  let  him 
up  in  case  he'll  promise,  good  fashion,  to  be 
quiet,  you  know,  and  mind  his  ps  and  qs  like  a 
good,  reasonable  Yankee  ? " 

'•Reasonable!"  said  the  butter-nut,  mock- 
ingly. 


By  the  Rapp  ihannock.  239 

"Be  respcctf  111 !  "  said  Griffin.  "We  have 
got  the  ujDper  hands  of  ye.  There,  now !  I 
have  him,  Bub!     We'll  take  hitii  to  camp." 

The  man  here  twisted  furiously,  and  once 
more  tried  to  get  away. 

"  If  I  had  any  charge  in  my  revolver  you'd 
ketch  it,"  he  said,  threateningly. 

"Got  a  revolver,  have  ye?"  said  GrifHn. 
"  So  much  the  more  prize  for  us.  To  camp 
with  him,  Bub,  to  our  lire  !  " 

The  man  here  became  quiet,  when  he  learned 
that  camp  meant  the  hollow.  He  was  located 
in  the  front  of  the  fire  when  heavily  prancing 
troops  were  heard  in  the  forest-road  and  then 
in  the  forest  itself.  On  the  edge  of  the  hollow 
a  man  shouted,  "What's  the  matter  down 
there?  What  regiment  yon  boj^s  belong  to? 
Yon  make  a  lot  of  noise." 

"  Tenth—  ! "  cried  Griffin.  "  We  have  got  a 
prisoner  down  here." 

"Or  has  he  got  you,  and  you  want  some 
help?"  asked  the  cavalryman. 

"ISTo,  we  can  take  him  along  soon  as  day 
breaks.  Do  you  know  where  the  Tenth  — is  ? " 
asked  Griffin. 

"About  two  miles  ahead." 

"Say!"  continued  Griffin.  "A  squad  of 
cavalry  went  by  here  last  evening  making  a 
16 


240     Drummer- Boy  of  the  Rappahannock. 

fearful  clatter.  Chasin'  somebody,  we  think. 
Know  about  it  ?  " 

"  I  was  one  of  'era.  Yes,  we  were  pressing 
hard  one  of  Lee's  men.  He  was  well  mounted, 
and  got  off  somehow.  Well,  if  you  don't  want 
any  help,  I'll  be  off.     Good-night ! "' 

"  Good-night !     Good- night !  " 

This  visitor  Jiad  been  gone  but  a  very  few 
minutes,  when  Griffin  spoke  up  suddenly,  at 
the  same  time  intently  gazing  into  the  face  of 
his  prisoner  :  "  Say  ! " 

"  Well,  say  it,  then.     I'm  here." 

"  Ain't  your  name  Trickey  ? " 

"Trickey?" 

"  You  look  nat'ral  as  a  piece  of  pie  Thanks- 
givin'  time.  I've  seen  you,  and  if  you  don't 
lie  you'll  say  you're  Trickey,  and  that  you  were 
with  me  in  a  yacht  that  got  on  to  a  rock, 
and  this  young  man  was  one  of  those  rescuin' 
you." 

"  So  it  is  ! "  ejaculated  Forrest.  "  Why  didn't 
I  see  it  before !  " 

"How  manj^  years  ago?"  asked  the  so-called 
Trickey. 

"  p,  this  last  spring ;  very  last  spring.  Come, 
you  are  Trickey  !  You  can't  pull  the  wool  over 
our  eyes." 

"  So  it  is  !     You  know  me  ? "  asked  Forrest, 


Bj  the  Rappahannock.  241 

looking  into  the  face,  black-ejed,  swartlij,  and 
evil,  that  he  had  distrusted  the  first  time  he 
saw  it, 

"Come!"  cried  Griffin,  jocosely.  "When 
shall  we  three  meet  again  ?  " 

"  Never,  if  I  have  my  say  !  "  shouted  the  pris- 
oner, springing  up  and  dashing  away.  But 
Forrest  was  like  a  hound  in  chasing  and  over- 
taking him. 

"  Let  me  go  !  Won't  3^ou  ?  Take  that,"  cried 
the  butter-nut,  aiming  a  blow  at  Forrest  with 
the  stock  of  his  revolver.  Forrest  dodged  the 
blow,  and  held  on  till  Griffin  came  up. 

"  Come ! "  pleaded  the  prisoner.  "  I  am 
Trickey.  I  am  a  Confederate — or  rebel,  if  you 
want  to  call  me  so.  I  was  the  cavalryman  they 
chased  so  last  night,  only  I  slipped  off  my  horse 
and  got  away  from  them.  Come!  If  you're 
old-time  friends,  let  me  off." 

Griffin  felt  the  appeal. 

"Would  you,  Bub?"  he  asked,  turning  to 
Forrest. 

"]^o,"  said  the  young  Unionist,  stoutly. 
"  He  will  go  home  to  fight  us  again  and  kill 
all  he  can,  I  know." 

"  That's  so ! "  said  Griffin,  promptly  stiffen- 
ing. "  Duty  before  pleasure  !  In  the  mornin' 
we  must  take  you  to  camp." 


242     Drummer' Boy  of  the  Rappahannock. 

"  You  will  be  sorry  for  this,"  said  Trickej  to 
Forrest.  "I'll  have  my  revenge  on  you,  you 
young  scamp." 

His  captors  made  no  reply  to  this,  but  firmly 
continued  to  guard  him.  Daybreak  sifted  soon 
its  grayish  light  down  through  the  sieve  of  the 
forest  foliage,  and  Griffin  announced  to  the  party 
that  they  had  better  be  marching. 

"The  Kappahannock  is  not  far  from  here. 
Bub,"  said  Gritiin. 

"It  is!     Where?" 

"  O,  just  down  at  the  foot  of  the  bank.  I 
don't  know  when  you'll  have  a  chance  again  to- 
day, and  if  you  want  to  go  down  to  the  river 
and  wash,  there's  your  chance.  Be  spry !  I'll 
mount  guard.     Be  spry  !  " 

"Ay,  ay!" 

Forrest  ran  through  the  woods  and  quickly 
saw  the  Rappahannock.  He  saw  it  with  eager 
interest,  for  it  was  his  first  sight  of  the  re- 
nowned river.  Its  dark,  placid,  glossy  surface 
was  turned  to  the  gray,  cloudy  sky  as  if  it  would 
take  an  imprint  from  them,  and  the  desire 
seemed  to  be  met,  for  a  light-gray  film  of  mist 
covered  the  stream.  Forrest,  bowing  down  to 
the  water,  was  bathing  his  face  and  hands,  say- 
ing, "Guess  this  is  the  drummer-boy  of  the 
Rappahannock ;  yes,  of  the  famous  stream,  the 


By  the  Rappahannock.  243 

Rappaliannock.  How  would  Nanny  like  that 
for  a  name  %  " 

Suddenly,  back  of  him,  he  heard  a  rushing 
noise,  and  the  drummer-boy  of  the  Rappahan- 
nock was  startled  to  see  Trickey  coming  on 
furiously,  making  tremendous  leaps  in  the  di- 
rection  of  freedom. 

"Stop  there!"  shouted  Forrest,  throwing 
himself  before  Trickey.     "  Stop  !  " 

The  eyes  of  the  fugitive  glared.  He  not  only 
had  a  threatening  but  a  murderous  look. 

"  If  yoii  try  to  stop  me,  I  will  kill  you  to-day, 
or  some  other  day,"  he  shouted. 

"  ISTo,  you  won't ! "  said  Forrest,  fearlessly 
rushing  up  to  him. 

"  I — I — will  keep  my  mind.  If  you  try  to 
stop  me,  I  will  kill  you — some  time." 

"No,  you  won't,"  said  Forrest,  gripping  him. 

Griffin  had  taken  away  Triekey's  arms,  both 
sword  and  pistol,  and  he  could  only  oppose 
the  strength  and  nimbleness  of  his  body  to  For- 
rest's onset.  It  was  his  nimbleness  that  saved 
him,  for,  making  a  swift  detour,  he  left  Forrest 
at  one  side  and  tlien  plunged  straightwa}^  into 
the  Rappahannock.  Forrest  now  stood  a  single 
■  moment  in  perplexity,  and  then  splashed  after 
him.  He  thought  the  man  might  perliaps  turn 
when    he    reached    deep    water,   and    struggle 


244        Drummer-Boy  of  the  Rappahannock. 

ashore  again,  and  Forrest  was  preparing  to 
tackle  him.  Trickey,  though,  kept  on,  an..l 
when  he  reached  water  too  deep  for  wading  lie 
struck  out  boldly  and  began  to  swim. 

"O,  bah!"  muttered  Forrest.  "I  can't 
swim.     Fool  I  was,  not  to  learn !" 

He  shouted,  "  Come  back  !  " 

"JS" — n — no — sir!"  shrieked  Trickey  in  de- 
fiance, slightly  turning  his  head,  yet  vigorously 
swimming  away.     "  Good-bye  ! " 

Somebody  else  on  tlie  river-bank  had  wit- 
nessed all  this,  for  while  Trickey  was  pushing  on 
a  voice  rang  out  from  the  shore,  "  Come  back  or 
I  fire  !     One — two — " 

Trickey  did  not  stop.  The  swim  for  liberty 
was  a  swim  for  life. 

"  Three ! "  shouted  the  new  voice,  and  then 
sharply  rang  out  the  echoes  of  a  rifle-shot. 

Would  it  hit  him?  Forrest  wondered.  His 
sympathies  now  were  with  Trickey.  He  was 
relieved  when  he  saw  the  splash  made  by  the 
bullet  as  it  struck  the  water  a  few  feet  beyond 
Trickey.  The  fugitive  saw  this,  and  exultingly 
gave  what  was  called  the  "  rebel  yell ; "  a  sharp, 
peculiar-  cry,  which,  once  heard  by  Northern 
troops,  was  never  forgotten.  When  it  went  up 
from  the  charge  on  the  battle-field,  a  wave  of 
wild,  unearthly  sound,  rising,  swelling,  sweep- 


By  the  Rappahannock.  245 

ing  above  the  clasli  of  arms  rolling  defiantly 
away,  it  startled  every  ear  that  caught  it. 
Trickey's  yell  started  out  of  the  recesses  of  their 
night-retreat  several  Union  soldiers,  and  they 
came  down  to  the  river-bank  hurriedly,  asking 
what  it  all  meant. 

"  Prisoner  got  away  from  us,"  explained  For- 
rest, "and  he  is  putting  for  the  other  side  of 
the  river.  I  see  him  now  and  then,  when  the 
mist  rolls  away." 

"  Sort  of  a  shooting  I  don't  like  to  do,"  said 
one  soldier. 

"  ]^or  I,"  said  another. 

"I  am  willing  to  let  him  go,"  cried  Forrest, 
"  but  I  tried  hard  enough  to  stop  him.  There 
lie  is! " 

The  morning  mist  curled  away  from  the 
river,  and  a  dark  round  object  showed  itself  on 
the  gray,  glossy  surface.  It  looked  like  the  head 
of  a  seal. 

One  of  the  soldiers  lifted  his  gun,  as  if  about  to 
aim  at  Trickey,  but  he  quickly  dropped  it,  mutter- 
ing, "  No,  I  can't  lire  !     Let  the  wretch  go  !  " 

The  mist  dropped  a?  if  in  pity  and  veiled  that 
head  which  had  been  exposed  for  a  moment. 
"While  the  Union  soldiers  were  waiting,  talking 
with  Forrest,  suddenly  the  rebel  yell  echoed 
above  the  river. 


246     Drummer-Boy  of  the  Rappahannock. 

"  He's  across ! "  said  one  of  the  soldiers. 
And  there  he  goes." 

Trickey's  form  was  seen  hurrying  np  the 
river-bank  and  then  lost  behind  a  clump  of 
trees. 

"  He  promised  to  kill  me,"  said  Forrest. 

"  O,  well,  that's  easier  said  than  done,  and  he 
may  live  to  change  his  mind,"  replied  one  of 
the  party. 

They  all  turned  and  left  the  river  behind 
them,  but  Forrest  often  in  thought  saw  tlie 
Rappahannock  as  it  appeared  that  morning — tlie 
mist  lying  in  loose,  curling  folds  above  the 
water,  and  tlie  head  of  Trickey  appearing,  then 
disappearing,  but  steadily  moving  toward  the 
other  shore  in  this  swim  for  liberty  and  life. 

But  where  was  Griffin  all  this  time  ?  At  Urst 
Forrest  wondered  where  he  was.  Then  "  the 
old  man"  was  forgotten  in  the  arrival  of  the 
other  soldiers  and  in  the  excitement  of  watch- 
ing Trickey's  efforts.  But  now  Forrest  said, 
"Where — where  is  'the  old  man?'" 

He  ran  into  the  woods  and,  soon  reaching  the 
liollow,  looked  down  into  it.  Why,  what  was 
the  matter  with  Griffin  ?  He  was  stretched  out 
beside  the  fire,  his  head  turned  away  from 
Forrest. 

"Say,  Griffin!     What  are  you   doing  down 


By  the  Rappahannock.  247 

there  ? "  called  out  Forrest.  "  Trickej  lias  got 
away  !     Did  you  know  it  ? " 

There  was  no  answer. 

Forrest  ran  down  to  him,  and  then  he  saw 
that  Griffin's  eyes  were  closed  and  across  his 
forehead  was  a  mark  of  blood.  Near  Griffin 
was  a  stout  cudgel  of  wood. 

"  0—0  !  "  cried  Forrest.  "  That  fellow  has 
killed  hiin ! " 

He  sprang  out  of  the  hollow,  found  one  of 
the  soldiers  who  had  been  witli  him  on  the 
shore,  and  tlie  two  examined  Griffin's  hurt. 

"  I'll  get  some  water !  "  said  Forrest.  "  We 
can  bathe  his  head." 

He  filled  his  canteen  down  at  the  river,  and 
bathed  Griffin's  brow. 

"  I  will  run  out  to  the  road  and  see  if  I  can't 
find  an  ambulance  and  have  him  taken  along," 
said  the  kind-hearted  soldier. 

He  had  hardly  left  the  hollow  when  Griffin, 
revived  by  the  cold  water,  opened  his  eyes  and 
feebly  asked,  "  Who's  that.  Bub  ? 

"  O,  that  is  all  riglit !  I  don't  know  his  name. 
But  you  keep  still.  Too  bad  you  have  been 
hurt !  I  am  sorry  I  didn't  get  here  sooner.  It 
is  too  bad  ! " 

"  It  is  all  right,  Bub  ;  it  is  all  right !  That 
water  feels  o-ood." 


248        Drummer-Boy  of  the  Rappahannock. 

When  the  soldier  returned,  he  reported  that 
he  had  stopped  an  ambulance  going  by.  This 
was  a  carriage  for  conveying  sick  or  wounded 
soldiers  to  the  hospital.  But  Griffin  did  not 
want  to  use  it. 

"  I  feel  better,"  he  insisted.  "  That  Trickey 
knocked  me  over,  but  I  am  feeling  better.  I 
can  walk.     I  don't  want  to  ride." 

The  attempt  to  walk,  though,  was  a  failure. 
He  was  finally  lifted  into  an  ambulance,  his 
drum  thrown  in  after  him,  and  off  went  the 
cart. 

''  Well,"  said  the  drummer-boy  of  the  Eappa- 
hannock,  picking  up  his  own  instrument  of  music 
and  hurrying  off.  "  I  am  left  alone  in  the  world. 
Thought  I  had  found  a  con-irade.  I  shall  pick 
up  somebody,  I  suppose.  Must  find  my  regi- 
ment somehow." 

The  road  was  now  full  again.  All  the  varie- 
ty making  up  the  rear  of  an  army  was  crowding 
along.  Batteries  went  rattling  by.  The  horses 
of  cavalrymen  clattered.  Baggage  wagons  out 
of  place  went  rumbling  along,  trying  in  vain  to 
catch  up  with  their  brother-wagons.  There 
w^ere  long,  plodding  columns  of  soldiers  afoot, 
laughing,  sometimes  singing,  the  most  of  them 
silently,  stolidly  pressing  on,  wishing  the  war 
was  over.     There  were  stragglers,  like  Forrest, 


By  the  Rappahannock.  249 

Imrrjing  to  overtake  their  regiment,  ana  there 
were  anxious  sutlers  with  their  teams,  fearful 
lest  the  J  miglit  be  left  behind  and  be  gobbled 
up  bj  some  prowling  body  of  Confederate 
cavalry. 

The  day  liad  not  opened  as  Forrest  had  an- 
ticipated. When  he  laj^  down  by  the  side  of 
Griffin  he  expected  to  rise  early  and  in  con- 
genial company  start  off  to  find  his  regiment. 
Instead  there  had  been  that  ugly  episode  in 
which  Trickey  had  been  so  prominent  and  dis- 
agreeable an  actor.  It  seemed  like  a  dream,  that 
adventure  by  the  Rappahannock,  and  Trickey's 
bold  swim  across  the  river.  Then  came  the 
finding  of  Griffin  so  disabled,  and  his  necessary 
transportation  in  an  ambulance.  At  last  there 
was  a  lonely  drummer-boy  straggling  along  a 
Virginia  road.  There  was  the  consciousness 
that  he  had  been  jolted  roughly  out  of  plans 
that  seemed  nicely  planned  and  easy  of  execu- 
tion. Every  thing  now  seemed  unstable  and 
uncertain.  All  this  clatter  of  war  might  quickly 
vanish  and  leave  him  alone  in  the  road — Forrest 
Hooper  and  his  drum — going  where  ? 

It  was  a  relief  to  feel  something  firm  and  hard 
in  the  breast-pocket  of  his  blouse.  That  was 
Nanny's  Bible.  Its  contents,  its  promises,  its 
hopes  were  not  evanescent. 


250      Drummer-Boy  of  the  Rappahannock. 

"What  chapter  was  it  Xannj  marked  for  to- 
day ? "  he  asked. 

He  turned  to  it,  and,  dropping  down  behind 
some  bnslies  by  the  side  of  the  road,  found  help 
and  comfort  in  a  psahn. 

"I  will  lift  up  mine  eyes  unto  the  hills,"  said 
the  psalm. 

He  thouglit  of  the  blue  ridge  that  rose  like 
a  wall  of  the  heavenly  city  on  the  Western  hori- 
zon, and  saw  in  the  strong  hills  a  type  of  the 
things  ever-sure  and  ever-lasting.  All  this  sug- 
gested something  else.  In  another  breast- 
pocket  he  carried  a   hymn-book  that    Captain 


Frye 


o-ave  nun. 


He  opened  it,  read  one  of  its 


hymns,  and  it  winged  his  thoughts  back  to  the 
little  church  at  home.  He  heard  the  pastor's 
voice  announcing  a  hymn,  heard  ^"anny's  warble 
in  the  choir  as  she  sang  the  stanzas,  and  he  arose 
strengthened. 


Fredericksburg.  251 


CHAPTER  Xiy. 

FREDERICKSBURG. 

ONE  December  morning  Forrest  and  "  the  old 
man  "  stood  by  a  camp-fire  in  Falmouth,  oppo- 
site Fredericksburg.  Between  the  two  places 
flowed  the  Rappahannock,  a  thin,  brittle  ice  cov- 
ering its  waters.  The  two -banks  of  the  river 
were  picketed  by  the  troops  of  the  two  armies, 
for,  while  the  Army  of  the  Potomac  occupied 
Falmouth  and  its  hills,  Fredericksburg  and  the 
heights  in  the  rear  were  in  the  strong  grip  of 
General  Lee.  Those  two  stalwart  armies  con- 
fronted one  another  day  after  day,  watching,  with 
keen  sentinel  eyes,  all  up  and  down  the  river 
every  movement  that  might  be  made,  crouching 
there  like  two  big,  surly  dogs  longing  to  fasten 
their  teeth  into  one  another,  and  yet  neither  car- 
ing to  begin  the  attack.  In  the  meantime  the 
shivering  soldiers  were  killing  time  as  best  they 
might,  tlie  Rappahannock  compelHng  them  to 
keep  at  a  safe  distance  from  one  another.  One 
necessary  occupation,  a  part  of  a  soldier's  mo- 
notonous life,  was  wood-cutting.     The  weather 


252      Drummer- Boy  of  the  Rappahannock. 

was  cold.  Snow  whitened  the  ground.  The 
soldiers  were  not  warmly  sheltered.  A  blazing, 
crackling  camp-fire  was  a  necessity.  These 
flared  all  through  the  great  encampment.  The 
men  could  be  seen  moving  out  to  slaughter  the 
trees,  and  the  sound  of  their  axes  rang  loud  and 
sharp  in  the  keen  wintry  air. 

"  Keeps  a  feller  busy,  j  ust  keej^in'  these  fires 
up,  Bub."  remarked  Griftin,  spreading  his  great 
red  hands  before  the  welcome  heat. 

"  If  every  tree  we  felled  were  a  Southern  reg- 
iment, we  would  soon  have  the  war  over,  Cy." 

"A  regiment!  If  every  tree  stood  for  just 
a  man  it  would  make  a  tremendous  difference  in 
the  war,  Bub." 

"When  do  you  think  we  will  have  a  chance  at 
the  Johnnies  ? " 

''  Soon  enough,  I  warrant  ye !  There  are 
whispers  round  to-day  that  suthin'  is  up,  and 
suthin'  more  will  be  down  to-morrow  or  next 
day.  It  don't  make  ye  feel  easy  to  look  at  them 
heights  and  think  we've  got  to  storm  them." 

"Do  you  think  we  can  carry  them?" 

"  Don't  seem  to  me  so,"  said  Cy,  shaking  his 
head. 

"  And  they  couldn't  take  our  works  here." 

"I  don't  think  so.  But  you  look  ahead,  and 
see  what  we  have  got  to  do  if  we  attack  them. 


Fredericksburg.  253 

First,  we  have  got  to  get  across  the  river.  The 
bridge  is  gone — only  the  piers  left — and  we  must 
make  a  pontoon-bridge.  All  the  time  their 
sharpshooters  on  the  other  side  will  be  pickin' 
us  off.  Well,  when  we  have  got  over,  we  are 
not  there — for  the  Johnnies  have  their  works 
on  those  heiglits  that  we  have  got  to  carry.  It's 
goin'  to  take  some  bloody  charges,  and  I  don't 
believe  we  can  do  it !  " 

"  Ilowover,  we  will  give  them  a  try." 

Griffin  nodded  his  head,  and,  looking  away 
from  the  fire,  glanced  at  the  young  drummer. 
He  liked  Forrest,  his  pluck  and  dash  and  gen- 
erosity were  so  conspicuous. 

"This  war  is  makin'  a  man  of  him,"  reflected 
the  older  drummer,  admiringly  contemplating 
Forrest. 

The  war  did  make  men  of  many  of  its  sol- 
diers. It  found  them  boys,  just  from  the  school- 
room. Its  years  passed  over  them,  its  hard  dis- 
cipline was  an  education  to  them,  and  they  came 
back  men  in  age,  and  men  in  character.  There 
were  those  who  never  came  back,  who  were 
among  the  sad  sheaves  death  harvested  from 
those  dark,  bloody  fields.  There  were  others  who 
survived,  but  the  temptations  of  the  war  riddling 
their  character  were  more  damaging  than  any 
shot  of  the  enemy.    Forrest  Hooper  was  standing 


254        Drn))imer-Bo)j  of  tJte  Rappahannock. 

well  the  test  of  those  teinptatioiis.  The  influ- 
ence of  his  earlj  training,  inclining  him  to  take 
sides  for  a  good  thing  when  fairly  recognized 
bj  his  conscience,  exposed  liini  to  the  ridicnle 
of  his  fellow-soldiers  at  times.  lie  could  stand 
alone,  though,  and  generally  liad  somebody  to 
stand  with  him  as  a  final  result.  But  he  tried 
not  to  be  a  disagreeable  martyr.  While  assert- 
ing his  convictions  positively,  and  taking  his 
stand  promptly,  he  tried  to  assert  and  stand 
pleasantly  at  the  time,  and  afterward  not  hold 
himself  aloof  at  his  martyr-stake,  but  mingle 
fraternally  with  those  from  whom  he  differed, 
taking  their  banter  good-naturedly,  and  showing 
that  he  had  some  power  of  self-control.  He  had 
not  accom23lished  this  at  once.  Several  letters 
to  Nanny  stating  liis  trials  because  lie  would 
"  take  sides,"  and  several  letters  from  her  giv- 
ing good,  helpful  advice,  had  been  necessary. 
So  little  by  little  his  boyhood  was  enlarging  into 
manhood.  He  was  building  out  character  on 
this  side  and  then  on  that  side,  and  some  time 
Nanny  was  hoping  and  praying  that  he  would 
build  up  toward  God,  She  had  been  worrying 
'about  him  lately,  when  the  papers  told  her  how 
the  two  armies  of  the  North  and  the  South  were 
situated:  separated  only  by  a  river  so  narrow 
that  the  pickets  on  the  two  banks  could  bandy 


Fredericksburg.  255 

words  vvitli  one  another,  and  jet  to  cross  that 
narrow  river  was  harder  than  had  been  the  pas- 
sage of  jnany  wide  seas.  Crossed  that  river 
would  be,  for  one  dark  December  night,  the 
lOtli,  in  the  year  1862,  a  Northern  brigade,  ac- 
companied by  a  train  of  boats  on  wheels,  came 
down  to  the  banks  of  the  Rappahannock.  The 
engineers  went  to  work  building  bridges  at  vari- 
ous points.  The  boats  were  pushed  over  the 
thin  ice  that  had  formed.  They  were  anchored 
in  the  current.  Then  the  timbers  and  planks 
were  laid  upon  that  boat  foundation.  Before 
the  late,  gray  dawn  of  the  winter  morning,  the 
bridges  were  almost  built.  Did  the  other  side 
know  nothing  of  this?  A  curtain  of  fog  had 
drawn  its  thick  folds  across  the  river.  Did  that 
hide? 

"Hark!"  said  Forrest  to  "the  old  man," 
about  live  o'clock  the  morning  of  the  lltli. 
"  Hear  that !  " 

They  had  been  out  hunting  up  news,  and 
were  now  in  for  a  short  nap. 

"  Hear  it !  "  replied  Griffin,  who  was  trying  to 
keep  comfortable  in  his  old  blue  coat  and  army 
blankets,  "  Hear  it !  Why  don't  you  ask  me  if 
I  have  any  ears  ? " 

Both  the  drummers  sprang  to  their  feet,  and 
rushed  to  the  door  of  their  tent  and  looked  out. 
17 


256       Drummer-Boy  of  the  Rappahannock. 

On  the  otlier  side  of  the  river,  on  the  lieights 
of  Fredericksburg,  the  Confederates  liad  fired 
two  signal  guns.  The  heavy  report  went  tlnui- 
dering  up  and  down  the  valley,  shattered  into 
echoes  that  went  on  and  on,  growling,  and  rum- 
bling, and  moaning,  then  dying  away  after  a 
long,  hard  struggle  for  life. 

"  That  means,"  said  Griffin,  "  that  they  know 
what  we  are  up  to,  and  are  just  telling  their 
folks  what  is  coming." 

"  Do  you  suppose  Trickey  heard  those  guns  ? " 
a-^ked  Forrest,  straining  his  eyes  in  the  direction 
of  misty  Fredericksburg. 

"  Sartin,  Bub  !  Depend  upon  it  he  is  up  to 
his  sliare  of  mischief." 

Forrest  said  nothing,  but  hoped  that  his  share 
of  the  fight  and  Trickey 's  might  not  be  mixed 
up. 

When  the  morning  was  advanced  far  enough 
to  permit  any  distinct  sight,  there  came  with  the 
seeing  a  heavy  musket-firing  up  and  down  the 
river.  A  bridge  below  the  town  was  completed, 
but  opposite  Fredericksburg  there  was  uncom- 
pleted work.  The  gray  fog  was  still  envelop- 
iiig  the  river,  and  the  Union  soldiers  could  only 
see  the  yellow  blaze  of  the  rifles  discharged  by 
the  Confederates  on  the  other  shore.  There 
was  the  unfinished  bridge-work  which  Forrest 


HVedericksburg.  257 

could  see  stretching  off  into  the  fog.  The  Union 
batteries  were  pitcliing  their  iron  compliments 
over  to  the  Southern  sharpshooters,  but  that  did 
not  rout  them,  for  they  were  firing  from  build- 
ings that  sheltered  them.  The  engineers  reached 
a  point  with  their  bridge-work  only  eighty  or 
ninety  feet  from  the  coveted  bank,  but  to  bridge 
that  gap  was  an  impossibility.  Soldiers  would 
start  out  with  a  plank  and  liasten  along  the 
bridge,  only  to  drop  before -that  sharp,  pitiless, 
murderous  fire  of  Mississippi  riflemen.  Then 
General  Burnside  ordered  General  Hunt,  the 
chief  of  artillery,  to  fire  on  the  place  sheltering 
this  volcano  of  death. 

"  Bring  all  your  guns  to  bear  upon  the  city, 
and  batter  it  down  !  " 

One  hundred  and  seventy-nine  guns  roared 
out  an  echo  to  these  words.  Nine  thousand 
solid  shot  and  shells  went  booming  over  the 
river,  honeycombing  Fredericksburg,  but  the 
deadly  riflemen  were  not  dislodged.  Those  who 
went  out  to  complete  the  bridge  were  swept 
away  before  their  fire,  and  that  ninety  feet  of 
\vater  stretching  between  the  unfinished  bridge 
and  the  shore  M\as  as  effectual  an  obstacle  to 
crossing  as  if  it  had  been  a  wall  ninety  feet 
high.  Could  the  .Rappahannock  never  be 
crossed?     A  brigade,  including  in  its  numbers 


253      Drummer- Boy  of  the  Rappahamwck. 

tlie  Seventh  Michigan,  vohmteered  to  attempt 
to  go  over  in  boats  and  drive  out  those  riflemen. 
Tiie  plan  was  to  dare  a  passage  in  boats.  Some 
of  the  Seventh  Michigan  were  detailed  for  this 
heroic  effort. 

They  spring  into  the  waiting  boats.  As  if  going 
to  a  feast,  they  push  out  into  tliat  stream  w^hich 
to  some  of  them  would  prove  a  river  of  death. 

"  Ping !  ping !  '•  come  the  rifle-balls.  Men 
are  dropping.  Still  the  boats  are  urged  forward 
into  the  very  thick  of  this  gauntlet  of  death. 
Shallows  are  reached.  The  boats  are  grounded. 
Then  the  brave  fellows  leap  out. 

"Ping!  ping!"  still  come  the  sharp,  deadly 
b:ills. 

The  Michigan  boys  struggle  through  this  iron 
shower.  They  wade  to  the  river-bank.  They 
gallantly  charge  up  the  slope.  They  penetrate 
the  hiding-places  of  the  enemy.  Kecklessly, 
stubbornly,  victoriously,  they  drive  ahead.  As 
with  a  broom,  they  clean  out  the  corners  in 
which  for  many  a  poor  Union  soldier  Death  had 
been  hiding,  a  rifle  in  his  hand.  There  is  no 
"opposition  now  that  hinders  the  completion  of 
the  bridge.  The  pontoons  are  swung  into  posi- 
tion. The  planks  are  laid.  The  two  banks  of 
the  river  are  joined,  and  over  the  bridge  march 
the  exulting  troops  of  the  Union.     The  struggle 


Fredericksburg.  259 

had  been  a  long  one,  and  tlie  snn  of  the  short 
December  day  was  now  going  down  through 
the  cold  winter  skj.  In  the  streets  of  Fredericks- 
burg the  struggle  was  prolonged,  but  the  enemy 
steadily  fell  back,  leaving  our  troops  in  possession 
of  the  town.  On  the  hills,  the  cannon  thun- 
dered away.  The  evening  camp-fires  flashed 
every  where.  In  Fredericksburg,  the  buildings 
that  had  been  fired  smoked  and  flamed  toward 
the  December  sky  like  huge  torches.  All  this 
was  only  a  threshold  to  a.  bloodier,  more  awful 
day.  When  the  morning  of  the  12th  broke  a 
fog  shrouded  the  river.  A  third  bridge  of  pon- 
toons the  engineers  stretched  from  bank  to  bank. 
The  Army  of  the  Potomac  was  busily  crossing, 
but  between  the  men  of  the  North  and  the  men 
of  the  South  hung  low  that  long,  thick  curtain 
of  fog.  By  noon  it  vt\as  lifted.  The  two  great 
war-giants  were  now  in  sight  of  one  another,  and 
began  to  roar  out  their  mutual  defiance.  Onr 
line  of  batteries  was  five  miles  in  length.  Think 
of  it ;  engines  of  death,  sweeping  with  their 
fatal  storm  that  long  distance!  Forrest  and 
Griffin  went  over  the  river  with  troops  who  were 
a  part  of  General  Franklin's  command.  They 
walked  with  the  other  drummers  at  the  head 
of  their  regiment,  that  tramped  confidently, 
proudly,  steadily  on,  but  more  than  one  heart 


260     Drummer-Boy  of  the  Rappahannock. 

trembled,  for  they  well  knew  that  this  might  be 
the  last  march — toward  death. 

Beyond  the  bridge  crossing  the  river  below 
the  town  was  a  wide,  open  plain.  The  troo])S 
debouched  upon  it  as  if  rallying  for  a  grand 
review.  Forrest  stepped  off  proudly,  his  dram 
slung  at  his  side.  Griffin  walked  next  to  him, 
his  drum  thrown  over  his  shoulders.  Tlie  troops 
were  hopeful.  Their  trusted  guns  rested  on  the 
shoulder,  ready  to  be  slung  round  and  brought 
into  service  any  moment.  As  some  general 
was  passed,  sitting  on  horseback,  they  might 
swing  off  their  caps  and  give  him  hearty  cheers. 
At  one  point,  where  the  line  of  march  curved, 
Forrest  could  look  back  and  see  the  pontoon- 
bridge  covered  with  troops  steadily  tramping 
forward  to  battle.  In  every  direction  troops 
were  moving,  on  both  sides  of  the  river.  The 
two  giants  were  getting  ready  for  the  awful 
death  grapple.  The  12th  of  December  went  by. 
Just  before  night  the  cannon  roared  on  both 
sides.  The  pickets,  too,  here  and  there,  were 
shooting  away.  On  this  angry,  contentious 
scene  the  night  shut  down,  keeping  apart  those 
who  were  anxious  to  begin  the  charge  of  battle. 

Forrest  and  Griffin  had  drummed  side  by  side, 
and  now  prepared  to  lie  down  side  by  side.  But 
where,  and  on  wliat  ?     Like  others,  out  in  the 


Fredericksburg.  261 

plain  ;  and  between  them  and  tlie  ground  were 
only  tliick  blankets.  Camp-iires  were  blazing  in 
every  direction,  and  little  groups  of  soldiers 
around  these  were  cooking  their  coffee, 

"  We  will  make  sure  of  our  coffee,  Bub,"  said 
Griffin,  "  and  till  our  canteens,  too.  Never  go- 
in'  to  say  '  die '  till  I  have  to,  and  I  mean  to 
take  some  coffee  fust,  anyway." 

"  And  I'll  find  the  softest  piece  of  ground  I 
can  for  our  bed,"  said  Forrest. 

The  fire  was  a  large  one,  and  on  every  side 
were  blue-coats  stooping  down  to  cook  their 
coffee.  A  blind  man  could  have  not  only  felt 
his  nearness  to  a  camp-fire  by  the  heat,  but  he 
C(nild  have  smelt  it,  so  strong  was  the  odor  of 
the  coffee. 

"  There,"  said  Griffin  when  the  hot,  odorous 
draught  w^as  ready,  "  you  take  that.  Bub  !  I  ex- 
pect, with  one  canteen  of  that  inside  of  you,  you 
would  drive  General  Lee  and  the  whole  of  the 
rebel  army." 

"  Ha-ha !  I  shall  wait  until  morning,  and 
when  you  feel  your  soft  bed  you  will  want  to 
wait  also." 

"  Soft  bed  !  I  am  ready  for  it,  and  you  too, 
I  guess." 

But  when  Griffin  and  Forrest  occupied  that 
couch  of  Mother  Nature's  frozen  bosom  and  their 


262       Drummer-Boy  of  the  Rappahannock. 

blankets,  either  the  bed,  the  strong  coffee,  or 
soniething  else,  kept  them  wide  awake.  Was 
the  "something  else"  fear  of  the  coming 
battle  % 

"  Well,"  said  Forrest,  "  I  can't  stand  this.  I 
am  going  to  get  up  and  walk  round.  Good-bj, 
old  man  ! " 

"  Wait  till  to-morrow  before  you  say  good-bj^, 
Bub,"  said  Griffin,  grimly. 

"  What  ? " 

"All  right!  all  right!  I  don't  care  to  ex- 
plain." 

Forrest  walked  off.  Would  he  and  his 
brother-drummer  actually  be  parted  to-morrow? 
Which  one  would  be  taken  ?  Which  one  would 
be  left  ?  Who  would  be  at  the  next  camp-fire  ? 
Who  would  build  that  ?  Of  all  these  men  about 
him,  these  brave,  hardy  fellows,  wrapped  in 
their  bhmkets  and  lying  on  the  ground,  or 
crouching  over  the  camp-fires,  who  to-morrow 
night  would  be  alive  to  bivouac  out  on  the 
plain?  Who  would  be — ?  lie  did  not  like  to 
complete  that  sentence  with  the  word  "  dead," 
and  he  did  not  say  it  even  to  himself.  He 
looked  off  upon  the  seemingly  numberless  fires, 
those  of  the  Union  army  on  his  side  of  the 
Rappahannock  and  those  of  the  Union  troops 
over  on  the  Falmouth  heights.     They  all  looked 


Fredericksburg.  263 

pleasant  and  friendly.  Then  he  turned  and 
gazed  npon  the  twinkling  flashes  along  the 
Fredericksburg  heights  and  near  their  base. 
Those  had  an  angry  glare.     Eacli  was  a  menace. 

"  Queer  !  Same  sort  of  camp-fire,"  reflected 
Forrest,  "  but  they  look  ugly.  Wonder  which 
is  Trickey's  !  It  must  be  that  red,  angry  one 
over  at  the  left.     Guess  Til  turn  in." 

lie  nigh  tumbled  over  one  nniffled  prostrate 
form  on  his  way  back  to  Griflin. 

"  O,  I  beg  pardon  ! "  said  Forrest. 

"  You'd  better  !  Tliought  you  were  that  cav. 
airy  on  horseback,  and  stickin'  tlieir  hoofs  into 
ms,"  growled  the  soldier  on  the  ground. 

"  Sorry !     Good-night." 

"  Good-night !  We'll  part  friends.  May  not 
have  a  chance  to  say  so  to-morrow  night." 

"  O,  I  hope  so  !  " 

As  he  moved  away,  though,  Forrest  wondered 
if  that  soldier,  to-morrow  night,  would  be 
stretched  out  before  a  camp-fire,  and  whether  a 
drummer-boy  looking  like  Forrest  Hooper 
would  be  in  a  condition  to  plant  his  reckless 
"  hoofs  "  in  the  side  of  the  above  sleeper. 

"  Ugh  ! "  said  Forrest.  "  N"ot  a  pleasant  sub- 
ject.    I'll  think  about  something  pleasanter." 

A  mail  had  come  to  the  army  that  day,  and 
O  how  eagerl}'  it  was  clutched  by  the  brave  fel- 


264       Drummer-Boy  of  the  Rappahannock. 

lows  going  into  battle  !  There  was  a  letter 
whose  style  of  superscription  always  made  For- 
rest's heart  flutter  when  he  saw  it :  "  Mr.  For- 
rest Hooper,  Tenth Regiment, corps, 

Army  of  the  Potomac,  Virginia." 

"  That  is  a  letter  from  Nanny,"  and  he  had 
read  it  certainly  twenty  times.  When  he 
stretched  out  once  more  by  the  side  of  Griffin 
Nanny's  letter  was  in  his  hand,  a  clutched  and 
crumpled  letter.  There  in  the  dark,  though,  it 
seemed  to  lie  smooth  and  open  before  him,  and 
he  could  read  every  word  of  it.  It  was  Nanny's 
handwriting  lighted  up  by  a  tliousand  camp-fires 
all  brightly  burning.  This  one  sentence  he  saw 
most  clearly  :  "  Don't  forget,  dear  Forrest,  that 
I  pray  for  you  morning  and  night." 

Somehow,  he  could  not  help  seeing  this,  and 
in  most  luminous  letters.  "  I  pray  for  you  morn- 
ing and  night."  He  wondered  if  she  were  pray- 
ing for  him  that  night.  He  needed  pi-aj^er. 
He  felt  the  need  of  it,  for  some  reason.  A  man 
facing  death  not  as  a  j)ossibility  on  the  morrow, 
but  as  something  quite  probable,  will  be  likely, 
if  of  a  reflective  nature,  to  do  some  serious 
thinking  the  night  before  the  battle. 

"  Wish  I  did  pray  every  day  and — and  felt 
it,"  Forrest  said,  there  under  the  sky,  stretched 
out  upon  his  back.     "  When  did  I  pray  last  ? " 


Fredericksburg.  265 

At  home  lie  prayed  regularly,  tliougli  it  was 
only  a  daily  form.  In  tlie  army,  while  he  had 
kept  his  promise  about  the  reading  of  the  Bible, 
the  habit  of  prayer  had  been  broken  up.  lie 
had  not  prayed  more  than  once  or  twice  since 
that  day  after  the  adventure  with  Trickey,  when 
he  had  looked  into  his  Bible.  But  to-night,  for 
some  reason,  he  had  a  strong  desire  to  pray,  and 
out  of  tlie  very  depths  of  his  soul  to  cry  unto 
God.  Why  he  should  feel  so  he  could  hardly 
understand.  The  battle  on  the  morrow  proba- 
bly had  provoked  that  interest,  but  then  at 
Antietam,  where  he  had  scented  the  smoke  of 
battle,  he  had  not  this  craving  after  something 
that  was  not  his,  something  that  only  God  could 
give,  and  something  that  God  would  give — 
would  he  not  %  "Was  this  what  people  called 
"getting  religion?"  Only  it  seemed  as  if  re- 
ligion were  getting  him.  If  so,  did  it  mean 
that  God  wanted  him  ?  God  certainly  had  told 
some  people,  in  a  very  plain,  unmistakable  way, 
when  he  wanted  them.  Did  not  God  tell  Sam- 
uel that  he  wanted  him  ?  Did  not  God  stop  St. 
Paul  and  speak  to  him?  Was  God  stopping 
Forrest  Hooper  ? 

"  Wish  I  knew  !  "  whispered  the  drummer- 
boy. 

Somehow,  this  subject  continued  to  press  upon 


266      Drnmmer-Boii  of  the  Rappahannock. 

the  thoughts  of  Forrest,  lying  out  there  in  that 
great  winter  bivouac  by  the  Rappaliannock. 

Then  he  thought  of  the  times  at  home  when 
the  minister  liad  tokl  him  he  ought  to  be  decided 
and  come  out  openly  as  a  Christian.  Had  not 
Nanny  told  him  he  ought  to  take  a  decided  stand 
for  Christ  ? 

"Why,  if  it  is  that,"  thought  Forrest,  still 
thinking  under  his  blanket,  "  why,  1  am  not 
afraid  to  take  sides/' 

Ah,  conscience  told  him  he  had  already  taken 
sides;  that  he  was  on  the  side  against  Christ,  that 
he  was  not  particular  about  attending  any  relig- 
ious service  in  the  army,  that  he  had  told  Griffin 
he  was  not  '*  pious,"  that  he  onlj-  prayed  now 
and  then. 

"  Now,  God  wants  you  to  take  a  stand  before 
all  these  men ;  before  Griffin,"  said  the  prompt 
and  faithful  monitor  within  him. 

"  Does  he  ?  I  am  not  afraid  to  stand  up  for 
Him,"  said  Forrest,  turning  over  as  if  about  to 
rise  and  stand  up  before  the  prostrate  Griffin, 
before  all  those  camp-fires,  and  the  forms 
stretched  out  or  huddled  about  them,  before, 
too,  the  evil-looking  fires  on  the  heights  back  of 
Fredericksburg. 

"  Now  if  God  wants  you,  and  you  want  God, 
why  don't  you  go  to  him?     Tell  him  how  you 


Fredericksburg.  267 

feel,  and  let  there  be  a  meeting  betweeD  jour 
soul  and  God,"  suggested  the  voice  within. 

"Don't  suppose  it  would  be  any  harm,  and — 
and  I  am  not  afraid,"  said  Forrest,  sitting  up 
and  looking  about  him,  as  if  replying  to  one  of 
the  men,  and  a  supposed  evil  objector,  at  a  near 
camp-fire. 

"  Do  it,  then,  and  let  it  be  for  good.  Don't 
take  it  back ;  don't  take  it  back,"  urged  the 
counselor  within. 

"  For  always  ?  "  asked  Forrest.  He  had  not 
thought  of  it  as  a  course  so  final.  "  Seems  too 
sudden." 

But  sudden  things  are  sometimes  the  best. 
Abrupt  choices  may  be  the  wisest.  And  if  God 
be  the  party  on  the  other  side,  and  the  party  on 
this  side  be  sincere,  in  your  breast,  in  my  breast, 
is  there  any  risk  of  failure  run  ? 

"Stand  up,  Forrest,  stand  up.  Forrest  Hoop- 
er ! "  urged  a  voice.     "  Take  a  stand  !  " 

He  rose,  for  he  felt  that  he  was  really  sum- 
moned, challenged,  invited,  called  forth  by  all 
these  witnessing  camp-fires  to  take  a  stand  for 
God,  and  take  it  there  on  that  wintry  plain  by 
the  Rappahannock,  in  the  night,  and  amid  that 
army  gathered  round  its  fires.  Under  that  chilly, 
misty  sky,  it  seemed  to  Forrest  Hooper  as  if  he 
told  every  body — both  armies,  the  world — that  he 


268      Drummer-Boy  of  the  Rappahannock. 

was  on  God's  side,  and,  God  helping  liim,  lie 
would  continue  to  stand  there.  Tlien  he  dropped 
upon  his  knees,  and  out  of  the  profound  need  of 
his  soul  he  looked  up  to  God,  and  silently  cried 
to  him.  He  did  not  say  much  about  the  battle, 
for  he  felt  that  if  God  took  him,  acknowledged 
him  to-night  as  his  servant,  was  he  not  safe 
enough  ? 

"  Why,  yes !  "  answered  Forrest ;  and  as  he  lay 
down  again  he  felt  that  he  had  somehow  gone 
under  a  shelter.  What  if  the  battle  left  him 
lying  out  there  to-morrow  night,  in  that  very  same 
place,  but  lying  dead  and  forsaken  !  That  was 
only  the  body ;  but  the  soul  would  be  with  God. 

As  he  continued  to  think,  he  heard  a  voice 
near  him. 

"Bub!" 

It  was  Griffin.    He  spoke  softly. 

"I — I — have  been  makin'  up  my  mind  to 
speak  to  you.  Say,  got  any — any  room  in  there 
forme?'' 

"  O,  talk  away  !     Room  where  ? " 

"  O — I  saw  you,  and  'twas  a  good  idea — any 
room  for  me  in  that  prayer  \ " 

Griffin  had  seen  him,  then,  kneeling. 

"Why,yes,Cy!" 

"  Just  put  in  a  word  for  me  be — cause — cause 
— to-morrow's  goin'  to  be  an  awful  day." 


Fredericksburg. 


269 


There  was  a  space  of  silence,  while  a  kneeling 
form  in  the  uncertain  light  of  a  bivouac-fire 
turned  his  face  to  the  chilling  sky  that  bent 
above  the  Kappahannock.  Somebody  else^ 
under  his  blanket,  also  folded  his  hands. 


270     Drummer- JBoy  of  the  Rappahannock. 


CHAPTER  XY. 

THAT    AWFUL   DAT. 

FREDERICKSBURG  was  a— failure.  We 
all  know  that  the  next  day  an  ominous  fog 
clouded  the  river.  It  was  like  an  evil  presence 
tliat  stretched  its  wings  above  the  Union  army, 
and  shed  not  a  benediction,  but  a  curse.  When 
it  folded  its  wings  and  stole  away,  there  was  the 
coming  battle-ticld  in  sight,  and  there  were  the 
two  waiting  armies. 

Boom — ni-m ! 

Boom — m-m  ! 

Two  signal -guns  went  off  on  the  Confed- 
erate side,  crashing,  thundering,  echoing  down 
upon  the  battle-plain.  Their  language  was, 
"  Ready  !  Ready  ! "  and  there  was  a  bold  re- 
sponse by  the  Union  army.  There  were  attacks 
made  on  the  right  and  tlie  left  of  the  Union 
army.  Marye's  Hill,  on  the  right,  will  never 
be  forgotten  by  the  men  that  stormed  it  and 
those  that  held  it.  Southern  cannon  were 
planted  there.  Southern  bayonets  bristled  there, 
and,  above  all.  Southern  men  were  behind  the 


Tliat  Awful  Day.  271 

cannon  smd  under  the  bayonets,  determined  that 
the  assault  should  not  be  successful.  They  had 
tlie  advantage  It  was  a  sad  mistake  to  throw 
our  columns  against  that  hard,  linn,  adamantine 
mountain  of  death  that  changed  into  a  volcano, 
and  hurled  out  its  tiro  and  angry  missiles.  It 
was  soon  after  noon  that  fifteen  tliousand  of  our 
men  moved  in  a  lieroic,  couipact  charge  upon 
tliatslunibcring  volcano — fit'reen  thousand  brave, 
earnest,  daring  men.  Th(jre  was  a  horrible  clash 
of  combatants,  a  murderous  uproar  of  arms,  and 
tlien  the  columns  broke,  collapsed,  fell  away,  and 
retreated.  To  charge,  to  waver,  to  break,  to 
come  back — those  who  did  come  back — did  not 
take  fi^fteen  minutes.  It  was  useless  to  launch 
another  v^eak  thunderbolt  at  that  merciless  vol- 
cano, but  it  was  launched  and — shattered.  The 
sun  of  a  winter  day  was  setting  when  one,more 
effort  was  made.  Our  soldiers  went  huzzahing. 
To  meet  the  huzzahs,  though,  were  grim  rows 
of  cannon  belching  forth  tlieir  wrath.  There 
were  thousands  of  muskets  flashing.  Rifles  were 
sending  out  tlieir  ringing  balls.  The  Union  sol- 
diers drove  the  enemy  up  the  hill,  but  could  not 
force  them  over  it,  and  then  they  fell  back. 
The  battle-field  was  strewn  with  the  dead  and  the 
dying,  even  as  the  autumn  grain  ridges  the  har- 
vest-field after  the  passage  of  the  reaper.  On 
18 


272       Drummer- Boy  of  the  Rappahannock. 

the  left,  where  General  Franklin  commanded, 
General  Meade's  division  went  forward,  and 
made  a  bold,  hard  strike.  It  broke  the  enemy's 
lines.  If  Meade  had  been  snpported  promptly 
— if  a  large  force  at  once  could  have  been  pushed 
into  that  gap — it  would  liave  torn  such  a  rent  in 
General  Lee's  army  that  it  would  have  been 
divided  and  defeated.  Through  a  niisnnder- 
ttandiug  that  full  support  was  not  given,  and 
Genei-al  Meade  was  obliged  to  fall  back.  His 
effort  had  failed,  but  his  pluck  and  push  re- 
mained. Perhaps  his  defeat  at  Fredericksburg 
helped  to  make  him  the  hero  at  Gettysburg, 
wdiere  the  relative  position  of  the  two  armies 
w^as  reversed — General  Meade  occupying  a  hill, 
and  General  Lee  vainly  trying  to  dislodge  him. 

That  day  by  the  Rappahannock,  though,  Fred- 
ericksburg was  a  Gettysburg-glory  for  the  South- 
ern army.  And  our  drummer-boy,  where  w^as 
he  in  the  aw^f  ul  fight  ?  Forrest  Hooper  was 
moving  out  to  meet  his  first  battle.  He  was  a 
brave  boy.  At  home  he  had  always  been  the 
boy  to  lead  off  in  every  adventure,  and  the  last 
to  come  back  from  it.  This,  though,  was  some- 
thing different.     A  charge  had  been  ordered, 

"Keep  up  your  grit.  Bub!"  shouted  GriflSn, 
as  they  strode  off  together.  "  Make  good  music 
as  you  can." 


That  Awful  Day.  213 

"Ay,  ay,  old  man!"  replied  Forrest,  look- 
ing up  into  the  kindly  face  of  the  big  drummer. 
In  a  battle-charge  the  drummers  were  in  the 
lear,  and  followed  up  an  assault  beating  their 
drums. 

"  Your  heart  agoin'  ? "  shouted  Griffin,  as  the 
roar  of  battle  began.  "  Beat  your  drum  lively, 
Bub,  lively  ! " 

It  seemed  to  Forrest  for  a  few  moments  as  if 
the  beating  drum  were  inside  his  breast,  so  ex- 
citedly was  his  heart  thumping.  He  thought  of 
Nanny  ;  thought  of  the  old  home  ;  wondered  if 
he  would  come  out  of  this  smoke  and  roar  alive  ; 
out  of  this  terrible  clash  ;  out  of  this  dreadful 
scene  of  men  dripping  with  blood,  dropping,  dy- 
ing, and  then—  He  did  not  think  any  more  !  He 
was  swept  away  by  the  excitement  of  the  hour, 
and  simply  went  on.  Bullets  fell  about  him. 
Shells  exploded  before  him.  Shot  went  flying 
over  his  head.  Still  he  w^ent  on.  One  moment 
he  was  holding  up  his  drum  uninjured  ;  the 
next  a  piece  of  shell  went  through  it,  making  a 
rao-o-ed  rent,  while  Forrest  put  his  unoccupied 
hand  up  to  his  head,  thinking  the  drummer  was 
also  hurt. 

"All  right!"  he  said.  "There,  off  wnth 
you  ! " 

As  he  spoke  he  tossed  his  mutilated  drum 


274     Drmnmer-Boy  of  the  Rappahannock. 

awaj,  and,  seizing  a  musket  that  somebody  liad 
dropped,  rushed  on.  He  seemed  to  be  swept 
forward  by  an  insane  excitement.  Suddenly, 
just  before  him,  up  rose — Trickey  ! 

Yes,  it  was  Trickey  !  There  was  no  doubt 
about  it !  That  terrible  Trickey !  How  lie 
loomed  up  I  How  big,  bulky,  gigantic  he 
seemed !  And  such  a  ferocious  grin  as  he 
wore  !  He  had  seen  Forrest !  He  looked  like 
a  demon  in  the  flesh.  Forrest  almost  stopped, 
startled,  confused  by  this  sudden  apparition,  and 
Trickey  had  not  only  spied  Forrest,  but,  leering 
fiendishly,  was  bearing  down  upon  him,  charg- 
ing upon  him  with  bayonet  fixed.  In  that  one 
supremely  sensitive,  excitable  moment,  every 
tiling  about  Trickey  seemed  burnt  into  Forrest's 
soul.  He  saw  Trickey's  gun,  and  the  hard,  firm, 
bony  hands  gripping  it.  He  saw  his  slouched 
Confederate  hat  with  its  broken  rim,  and  counted 
two  holes  in  the  rim.  He  saw  Trickey's  blanket 
rolled  up  and  bound  over  his  left  shoulder  and 
down  across  his  breast.  He  saw  the  worn  belt 
around  the  waist,  and  the  old  canteen  stained 
and  dented.  Forrest  saw  other  men  with 
slouched  hats,  blankets,  canteens,  guns,  bayonets 
— a  wild,  insane  rush  of  men,  a  melee,  a  mob,  an 
avalanche,  a  huge  centipede,  wriggling,  squirm- 
ing, writhing  toward  him  through  smoke  and 


That  Awful  Day.  275 

amid  sliot  and  shell ;  but  the  awful  front,  its 
seeming  leader,  its  one  dominant,  murderous  will, 
was  that  Trickey.  He  was  the  crater  of  the 
volcano,  belching  fire.  That  was  the  supreme 
impression  in  this  fiendish  hour,  "  Trickey  !  " 
Another  moment  Forrest  saw  Trickey  lev- 
eling his  musket  at  him.  Then  he  saw  some- 
body else  rushing  up,  wearing  the  old  blue 
coat  that  the  Union  soldier  had  made  so  famil- 
iar and  glorious  !  All  the  details  of  his  uniform 
and  person  came  out  inco  sudden,  sharp,  strange 
prominence.  The  cap — no,  he  was  without  a 
cap,  but  the  gun,  the  blanket,  the  knapsack,  the 
canteen,  and  above  all  the  face,  had  a  stei-eo- 
scopic  distinctness.  Somewhere  in  the  fight 
the  cap  had  been  dropped,  and  across  his  fore- 
head was  a  scar.  O,  how  plain  was  that  scar  ! 
It  was  an  unmistakable  sign  of  the  soldier's 
identity,  even  if  the  kindly,  trustworthy,  noble 
face  had  not  been  there. 

"  The  tramp  !  the  tramp  !  "  thought  Forrest, 
exultingly. 

Yes,  the  tramp  of  those  days  of  spring  by 
the  sea-shore  at  liome,  and  yet  he  was  something 
far  more.  He  rose  up  so  commanding,  glorious, 
even  as  the  impulse  to  save  always  glorifies  the 
savior,  just  as  the  impulse  to  destroy  degrades 
and  brutalizes  and  makes  devilish  the  destroyer. 


276     Drummer-Boy  of  the  Rappahannock. 

"  Back  there  !  "  he  shouted  commandin^lj  to 
Trickej. 

With  the  butt  of  his  musket  he  struck  out 
toward  Trickey — but  Forrest  saw  no  more. 
Somewhere,  someliow,  Trickej  had  wounded 
him.  He  fell,  and  oblivion  darkened  his  soul. 
He  lay  senseless  among  the  dead  and  wounded. 

At  dusk  a  big,  stalwart  drummer  came  that 
way. 

"  Poor  little  Bub  !  "  he  murmured,  looking 
down.  "  Where  are  you  ?  Somewhere,  you 
poor  little  cha^D !  ISTot  covered  up  yet,  I 
know." 

He  continued  his  search. 

"  O,  here  you  are  !  here  you  are  !  Poor  little 
Bnb  !  I  thought  I  should  find  you.  Warm  and — 
and — breathing  !  "  he  ejaculated,  placing  his  face 
close  down  by  Forrest's,  and  laying  his  hand  on 
Forrest's  heart.  "  Poor  little  Bub  !  The  folks 
at  home  will  feel  bad,  and  that  girl  with  the 
pretty  voice,  I  expect,  too.  Poor  little  Bub ! 
Kow  let  me  lift  you — there — there  !  Poor  little 
Bub  !  What  did  you  ever  come  into  this  hell 
for  ?  " 

As  if  he  were  carrying  a  baby,  the  big  drum- 
mer strode  off,  in  his  arms  bearing  Forrest, 
whose  head  drooped  upon  Griffin's  shoulder 
like  the  flower  of  a  stem  that  has  wilted.     He 


That  Aioful  Day.  211 

had  gone  but  a  few  steps  wlien  lie  heard  a 
moan. 

"  Poor  feller  !  "  said  Griffin,  looking  down  at 
a  face  that  turned  up  a  pitying  appeal,  white, 
blood-stained,  and  across  its  forehead  the  uneven 
line  of  a  scar,  the  sign  and  seal  of  a  noble  hero. 
"  Wish  I  could  lug  you  too ;  but  I'll  coma  again 
if  I  can." 

It  was  dark,  though,  when  Griffin  had  found 
a  shelter  for  the  charge  already  in  his  arms,  and 
then  he  was  summoned  by  an  officer  to  another 
duty. 

"  That  poor  feller  I  couldn't  carry  !  "  he  often 
said  to  himself. 

And  this  "  poor  feller,"  with  the  scar  in  his 
forehead,  lay  out  there  on  the  battle-field 
tln-ough  the  dark,  chilling  winter-night  that  fol- 
lowed. ISTow  and  then  a  moan  escaped  him,  the 
involuntary  sigh  of  one  who  a  second  time  was 
offering  a  sacrifice  on  tlie  altar  of  liberty. 


278      Drummer- Boy  of  the  Rappahannock. 


CHAPTER  XYI. 

THE  BATTLE-NEWS  AT  HOME. 

^^IIATTLE    down    in    Yirginny!"    cried    a 

IJ  news  boj  in  a  street  at  tlie  Port.  "  Great 
lossof  life-fe!'' 

"  My  !  "  exclaimed  a  hack-driver  on  his  box, 
as  his  carriage  rattled  away  to  a  wharf.  "  Say  !  " 
lie  shouted  to  several  sailoi-s  on  the  deck  of  a 
coaster  at  the  wluirf.  "  Any  of  you  fellers  got 
relatives  down  in  the  array  ?  If  so,  tremenjus 
battle  down  in  Yirginny  !  " 

"Say!"  shouted  the  sailors  two  minutes 
later  to  a  boy  in  a  boat  off  in  the  river,  "  tell 
the  folks  that  there's  been  a  big  battle  down  in 
Yirginny  !  " 

The  boy^  took  the  news  to  Gilbert  French's 
store.  So  the  news  went  from  man  to  man,  boy 
to  boy,  woman  to  woman  ;  some  pallid  face  listen- 
ing to  what  another  reported  carelessly.  The 
news  went  as  fire  leaps  across  the  prairie,  from 
grass-blade  to  grass-blade. 

"What  did  you  say?"  asked  Nanny,  going 
to  a  window  uj^on  one  of  whose  cold  panes  the 


Tlie  Battle-News  at  Houie.  279 

nmlatto  George  was  making  liis  Hat  nose  still 
flatter. 

"  Been  a  battle  down  in  Yirginnj  !  "  shouted 
this  herald  on  the  outside  of  the  house. 

"  O.  come  in,  do,  and  tell  me  !  "  said  ]^anny, 
and  then  she  felt  the  blood  leaving  her  face 
and  hands. 

"  I  dunno  'bout  it  only  what  some  fish'men 
sez  jes'  now  comin'  down  de  ribber,  an'  a  ped- 
dler tole  'em,  an'  a  man  from  Gilbert  French's 
store  tule  him,  an'  a  boy  tole  him — '*  and,  yes, 
from  mouth  to  mouth  had  the  news  been 
shouted. 

"  A  battle  in  Virginia  ?  O  dear  !  where  was 
ic  ?  "  asked  Nanny,  impatiently.  "  I  don't  want 
to  know  who  told,  but  where  was  it?  " 

"  Dunno.    All  dey  sez  'twas  in  ole  Vii-ginny." 

"  Here  comes  the  skipper,  and  he  has  got  a 
paper.  O,  Uncle  Jerry,"  she  said,  addressing 
Skipper  Bowser,  who  was  now  stepping  into 
the  house,  "  has  there  been  a  battle  down  in 
Yirginia  ?  Is  it  the  Army  of  the  Potomac? 
Was  Forrest  hurt  or — " 

"  Jest  wait ! "  said  Skipper  Bowser,  in  that 
calm  but  hard  and  unnatural  tone  which  is  any 
thing  but  assuring  to  one  in  suspense.  "  We 
will  see  what  the  paper  says." 

"  Killed  right  an'  left.     O,  a  heap,  dey  say," 


280       Drummer-Boy  of  the  Rappahannock. 

interposed  George.  He  received  a  wink  from 
Jerry,  and  then  tlie  skipper  adjusted  his  spec- 
tacles. 

"  O  !  O  !  let  me  see  !  '■   cried  Nanny,  eagerly. 

Annt  Huklah  here  came  into  the  room. 

"  Just  think  !  A  battle  in  Virginia,  Aunt 
Huldah,  and  every  body  killed,  I  am  afraid," 
said  Nanny. 

"  Hold  oil ! ''  said  the  skipper.  "  Not  so  bad 
as  that  ! " 

''  Got  flags  at  half  mas'  up  at  de  Port,  dey 
say." 

"  Somebody  known  there  who  has  died  ? 
Wait !     Ah,  here  it  is  !  " 

The  skipper's  face  grew  very  serious  as  he 
read,  while  Aunt  Huldah,  Nanny,  and  George 
looked  over  his  shoulders.  He  read  on  in  his 
sharp,  nasal,  but  very  kind  and  humane  tones. 

"  '  Great  slaughter,'  "  firmly  read  the  skipper, 
his  glistening  spectacles  bent  on  the  paper. 

"Toobadl" 

"  O  dear !  " 

To  these  ejaculations  of  the  women,  George 
added,  "  Drefiul !  " 

"  Sakes !  "  moaned  a  new  voice,  that  of  Mrs. 
Bowser. 

'"But  our  noble  soldiers  died  well,'"  contin- 
ued the  skipper. 


The  Battle-N'ews  at  Home.  281 

Nannv  pressed  down  the  pain  in  her  heart. 

''  Bress  de  Lor' !  "  said  another  voice,  Eliza's. 
"  Died  well !  " 

"  And  where  was  it  ?  "  asked  Nanny. 

"  Fredericksburg !  "  replied  the  skipper,  try- 
ing to  make  his  tone  cheerful. 

It  was  a  memorable  scene  in  the  old  kitchen. 
The  skipper  reading  (he  was  proud  of  his  sup- 
posed oratory),  George  rolling  Jiis  eyes  round 
and  groaning,  while  Nanny,  Aunt  Huldah, 
Miranda  Jane,  and  Eliza  huddled  around  the 
reader,  before,  behind,  on  either  side,  and  fast- 
ened their  eyes  on  the  face  trying  to  be  firm 
and  unconcerned  as  he  read,  "  'Weather  cold  the 
night  after  the  battle  and  bad  for — the — the — '  " 

Here  the  skipper  took  off  his  spectacles,  and 
in  a  trenmlous  tone  proceeded  to  say,  "  Them 
glasses  never — did — suit — me." 

Wiping  a  coating  of  dew  from  the  faithful 
lenses,  he  adjusted  them  again,  and  once  more 
proceeded  :  "  *  The  wounded  and  the  dead — are 
estimated  at — thousands  on  both  sides.  The 
rebels  fought  well  and  held  their  own,  but  it 
was  too  hard  a  place  to  be  taken.  The  attack 
was  a  mistake.  Our  brave  boys  that  were 
wounded — ' " 

"What  regiments?— and  the  killed?"  asked 
Aunt  Huldah  faintly. 


282       Drummer-Boy  of  the  Rappahannock. 

"It  was  a  Michigan  regiment  that  went  over 
first,"  said  the  skipper,  avoiding  the  question. 

"  Li-zay,  don'  you  wish  I'd  ben  dar  ? " 

"  You  ?  Don'  you  stick  yerself  in  dar  'among 
de  white  folk ! "  was  Eliza's  comforting  re- 
joinder. 

"I  don't  suppose  there's  anything  about 
Forrest's  regiment?"  queried  Nanny  in  a  low 
tone. 

"Don't  say  any  thing  about  him,"  said  the 
skipper,  who  had  found  out,  though,  that  For- 
rest's regiment  was  badly  "  cut  up,"  and  he  now 
said,  "  We  must  hope  he's  all  right — hem  ! '  ' 

Here  lie  laid  down  the  j)aper,  took  oif  his 
spectacles  and  left  the  house.  If  any  body  had 
followed  him,  they  would  have  seen  him  in  the 
the  shed  wiping  a  freshet  out  of  his  eyes.  The 
women  now  took  the  paper  to  devour  it,  but 
one  by  one  they  yielded  it  up  and  forsook  the 
kitchen.  Eliza  was  hardly  aware  that  she  was 
left  by  Mrs.  Bowser  alone  with  the  paper,  so 
earnest  was  she  in  picking  out  the  big  capitals 
among  the  letters,  preferring  to  interpret  every 
D  as  death  and  every  G  as  grave. 

"  Ugh  !  All  gwine  ?  De  Lor'  hab  mercy  ! 
Reckon  I'se  go,  too  ! " 

The  paper  was  dropped  on  the  floor,  the  win- 
ter sunshine  retreating  from  it  and  leaving  it  all 


The  Battle- News  at  Home.  283 

alone,  as  if  its  nature  were  of  the  horrible.  It 
laj  near  a  door  under  which,  through  a  crack, 
moaned  the  wind,  as  if  it  had  an  idea  that 
the  paper  had  brought  bad  news,  and  there  must 
be  mourning.  Up  stairs,  in  tlieir  rooms,  Nanny 
and  Aunt  Huldah  were  crying,  for  they  had 
seen  all  that  the  pitying  skipper  had  left  out. 
]^anny  was  down  on  lier  knees,  praying  and 
pleading  for  Forrest's  life  if  endangered,  and 
asking  for  strength  if  the  worst  must  be  ex- 
pected. She  wondered  if  those  in  heaven  knew 
how  great  her  wretchedness  was:  if  her  father 
knew  and  thought  of  her,  and  if  that  mother,  so 
long  departed  that  Nanny  could  see  only  dimly 
her  face  turned  toward  her  through  the  mist  of 
many  years,  felt  for  her  and  pitied  her.  And 
the  pain  of  the  horrid  suspense  in  this  home  re- 
mote from  the  war  suggested  what  was  transpir- 
ing in  many  homes.  As  the  tidings  of  the 
uulncky  battle  went  over  the  North,  it  was  like 
the  flight  of  tiie  destroying  angel  in  Egypt,  that 
left  behind,  in  its  proud  homes  and  its  lowly 
ones,  the  moans  of  the  dying  and  the  anguish  of 
the  living.  Nanny  tliought  of  what  her  father 
used  to  say,  when  his  voice  would  ring  out  like  an 
old  prophet's :  "  Nanny,  we  have  as  a  people 
measured  out  suffering  to  the  black  race.  We 
have  heaped  the  measure  up.     There  is  an  old 


284     Drummer- Boy  of  the  Rappahannock. 

verse  tliat  says,  '  For  with  what  judgment  ye 
judge,  ye  shall  be  judged :  and  with  what  meas- 
ure ye  mete,  it  shall  be  measured  to  you  again.' 
Nanny,  God's  measuring-day  will  come." 

Nanny  wondered  if  God's  measuring-day  had 
come. 

As  more  definite  news  came  from  the  battle 
it  was  known  that  Fori-est  had  been  among  the 
wounded,  "severely,"  the  first  account  said. 
Then  it  seemed  to  Nanny  as  if  the  waves  of 
trouble,  already  running  so  uneasily,  were  grow- 
ing into  great  billows  of  the  sea.  She  formed 
her  plans  speedily,  and  the  morning  after  the 
news  slie  came  over  to  Skipper  Bowser's  boat- 
shop. 

"  Uncle  Jerry,"  said  Nanny,  arresting  the 
hammer  that  was  coming  down  upon  the  keel 
of  a  boat,  "  I  am  thinking  whether  it  wouldn't 
be  best  for  me  to  go  to  the  war." 

He  started  back,  holding  up  his  hands  in 
amazement. 

"  What !  carry  a  gun,  child  ?  " 

"O,  no;  but  help  take  care  of  the  sick  and 
wounded." 

"  Nuss,  you  mean  ? " 

"I  suppose  it  would  amount  to  that.  Last 
week  I  had  a  letter  from  old  Mrs.  De  Witt — 
who  was  taken  off  from  that  yacht,  you  know — 


The  Battle-News  at  Home.  285 

and  she  said  she  belonged  to  an  association  for 
sending  women  to  help  in  hospital  work.  I 
know  where  she  lives — not  far  from  New 
York—" 

"  And  you  want  mj  'pinion  ?  or  do  you  want 
me  to  ratify  yourn  ?     Some  difference." 

"Well,  what  do  you  think  of  it? 

"  But  Aunt  Huldy  ?  " 

"  She  has  already  said  she  thinks  she  will  go 
back  to  New  York,  as  she  can  earn  her  living 
there  and  she  can't  here.  It  would  be  lonely 
without  her." 

"  I  see.  Well,  I  could  have  an  ej^e  out  to 
things  over  to  your  home.  But  how  about 
money  matters  ? " 

"  Gilbert  French — "  As  slie  spoke,  Nanny's 
countenance  fell.  ','  He  has  been  round  again, 
I  know,  and  showed  me  a  paper,  witnessed  by 
Daniel  English,  he  says — that  tramp  round  here, 
you  know,  last  spring — saying  that  father  gave 
him  the  big  meadow ;  and  I  don't  believe  he 
did." 

"  Daniel  English  ?  that  the  tramp  ?  and  he  wit- 
nessed it  %  Wall,  I'll  write  on  to  that  place  in 
New  York  and  find  out.  You  may  rely  on  me 
to  look  after  that,  Nanny.  Don't  you  stay  at 
liome  for  that.  It's  a  shame  to  be  nagged  round 
60,  but  I'll  fix  him.     I've  got  a  lawyer  on  his 


286       Drummer-Boy  of  the  B.'tppahannock. 

track.  Don't  ye  worry.  Sajs  that  Daniel  En- 
glish— if  that  is  tlie  tramp's  name — signed  the 
paper  wlien  on  here?  It's  a  shame!  I'll  fix 
him.     Leave  him  to  me." 

But  J^annj's  thoughts  just  at  this  moment 
were  on  another  subject. 

"  You  see,  Uncle  Jerjy,  I  am  well  and  strong, 
and  instead  of  staying  here  at  home,  just  I, 
3'ou  know,  when  Aunt  lliiklah's  gone,  why 
could  not  I  be  away,  also,  doing  some  good?  I 
think  I  could  help  some  way.  Mrs.  De  Witt 
would  help  me  to  get  into  the  right  place.'' 

All  this  time  the  skipper,  holding  his  hammer 
in  his  hand,  was  looking  at  tlie  keel  of  the  boat 
he  was  making. 

Nanny  continued:  "And  I  have  prayed  over 
it,  Uncle  Jerry."' 

"What  answer  do  you  git?" 

"  Seems  to  me  God  says,  '  Go.'  " 

"Does  he?  That  the  feelin'  in  your  heart? 
Wall,  you  are  your  own  woman,  and  if  He  says 
that  way,  I  don't  see  but  that  settles  it." 

Here,  as  if  emphasizing  his  opinion,  the  skip- 
per rapped  the  keel  with  his  hammer  smartly. 

"  Then  you're  goin'  to  the  war,  Nanny  ? " 

"  Yes,  Uncle  Jerry." 

Here  Nanny  looked  up  and  saw  in  a  min-or 
huno-  on  the  wall  the  face  of  Gilbert  French! 


The  Battle-News  at  Home.  287 

"  Wlij ! "  the  skipper  heard  her  exclaim  in 
affright.     "  Wiiat  is  that  ?     Is  it  Gilbert  ? " 

The  skipper  had  purposely  placed  the  glass  in 
that  position.  In  summer  the  sea-shore  was 
thronged  with  visitors,  and  all  sorts  of  peddlers 
came  with  them.  These  were  sure  to  call  upon 
the  skipper.  This  looking-glass  reflected  the 
door  by  which  the  shop  was  entered.  The 
skipper  when  he  heard  the  sound  of  approaching 
feet  could  lift  his  eyes  to  this  glass  and,  without 
turning  away  from  his  work,  see  who  had  en- 
tered. A  peddler  with  toilet-soap  in  his  bag,  or 
the  agent  for  a  new  sewing-machine,  would  be 
surprised  to  hear  the  skipper  bawl  out,  "  Don't 
want  nothin'!"  when  he  had  not  even  turned 
his  head  to  look  at  the  caller. 

"Some  folks  are  sharp,  but  that  feller  is 
quick-sighted  enough  to  see  through  the  t'other 
side  of  his  head,"  was  the  comment  of  one  of 
the  sewing-machine  fraternity. 

Had  N"anny  now  seen  Gilbert  French's  face 
turned  toward  her,  and  just  disappearing  out  of 
the  door?  Why  didn't  she  hear  Gilbert's  step, 
if  he  had  come  to  the  door?  Was  it  not  a  per- 
son she  saw  ?  Was  it  only  a  phantom  ?  only  a 
projection  outward  of  the  hateful  image  that 
was  so  often  in  her  thoughts? 

"  Gilbert  French  ? "  said  the  skipper,  hurrying 
19 


288       Drummer- Boy  of  the  Rappahaiinock. 

to  the  door  and  looking  out.  "  Don't  see  him  ! 
He  went  'm^izin'  quick  if  'twas  he.  Guess  jou 
were  mistaken." 

"  Saw  him  in  that  glass,  Uncle  Jerry." 
She  now  turned  to  the  looking-glass,  and 
looked  into  it  to  see  if  Gilbert  French's  face 
might  not  rise  out  of  the  depths  of  the  mirror 
and  show  itself  again  upon  the  surface.  ]N"oth- 
ing  was  there,  only  an  ugly  black  spider  tliat 
had  lowered  itself  from  its  web  and  was  crawl- 
ing over  the  glass. 

JS'anny  herself  went  to  the  door  and  looked 
out. 

"  Queer !  Don't  see  any  body  !  Wonder  if 
he  came  down  to  see  the  skipper  and  heard  me 
say  I  was  going  to  tlie  war  'i  Don't  want  him 
to  know.     I'll  look  round  this  corner." 

She  saw  no  one  and  went  back  to  the  shop. 
The  glass  was  clear,  the  ugly  black  spider  hav- 
ing crawled  away.  Somebody  besides  the  skip- 
per though,  was  in  the  shop, 

"  I  tole  jer  dese  many  days  I  ought  to  go  to 
de  war,"  said  a  voice. 

"  O,"  thought  ]S"anny,  "  it  is  George." 
"  Yeh,  I  tole  yer  I  ought  fur  to  go,  skipper." 
"  Have  you  made  up  your  mind  ? " 
"Hem— no!     Mammy    ain'  jes'    feelin'    dat 
way,  but  I  hope  to  bring  her  roun'." 


TJie  Battle- News  at  Home.  289 

"  Somebody  else  wants  to  go,  Nanny,  you 
see,"  said  Skipper  Bowser, 

"  I  see.  Well,  somebody  must  go,"  replied 
Nanny.  "  If  I  had  the  money  I  believe  I  would 
start  for  Mrs.  De  Witt's  to-morrow.  I  must 
wait  for  the  money  I  hope  to  get  from  the 
vegetables  left  in  the  cellar.  I  thought  I  would 
sell  thera,  for  they  won't  be  wanted  if  Aunt 
Huldah  goes  away.  There  are  about  twenty 
bushels  of  potatoes,  and  ten  barrels  of  apples, 
and—" 

"  Nannj',  child,  I  wisli  I  had  tlie  money  !  You 
should  have  it  in  a  moment.  We  shall  miss  you 
terribly  round  this  way — " 

Here  the  skipper  turned  and  said  he  must  put 
a  stick  of  wood  in  the  stove.  This  gave  him  a 
chance  to  wipe  his  eyes.  When  lie  came  back 
lie  said  :  ''  IIow  often  I've  wished  the  tramp's 
money  would  turn  up — what  was  lost  here,  I 
mean — and  tliat  never  yet  has  turned  up  !  Then 
you  could  go  off  tomorrow  with  that.  I've 
hunted  and — "' 

"  Fur  dat  tramp's  money,  yer  mean  ?  "  asked 
George. 

"  Yes.  You  know  we  hunted  for  his  address  ; 
we  found  that." 

''  Wouldn'  I  jos'  like  to  fin'  dat  money  ! " 

"A    reward   to    the    finder!"    said    Nannv: 


290      Drummer-Boy  of  the  Rappahannock. 

''  but  you  would  never  get  it,  for  it's  of  no  use 
looking." 

"  Lemine  see  ! "  exclaimed  George,  slowly, 
seriously,  solemnly,  bowing  down  under  the 
bjnch  which  had  so  many  "  cubby-holes,"  as  he 
had  said.  It  delighted  liis  mystery-loving  nature 
to  poke  into  dark  holes,  and  see  if  any  might 
have  a  tenant  of  a  bank-bill.  These  were  all 
empty  residences. 

"  Where  d'you  say  dat  money  was  %  "  he  asked 
the  skipper. 

"  It  was  on  this  bench,  and  the  wind  blew  it 
out  of  the  winder.  There,  I  have  said  that  a 
thousand  times,  I  s'pose,  if  I  have  once !  Wind 
blew  it,  took  it  across  that  window-sill  out- 
doors, and  I  have  hunted  all  through  this  shop 
as  if  this  were  '  out-doors,'  and  then  I  have  gone 
under  the  winder,  and  away  from  the  winder, 
an  1  I  don't  know  where." 

''  Dat  hole  in  de  sill,"  George  was  saying 
to  himself  ;  "  wonder  if  it  went  down  dar  !  " 

He  now  bobbed  under  the  bench  and  looked  at 
the  base  of  the  wall  directly  under  the  window- 
lie  saw    a  laro:e  crack  in  the  sheathing. 


sil 


Now,  a  crack  to  George  was  the  attractive  en- 
trance-way to  a  mystery  of  undefinable  size.  It 
was  like  the  portal  of  an  Egyptian  temple,  be- 
hind   which    lay  such  a  quantity  of   shadows 


The  Battle- News  at  Home.  291 

sucli  dim  depths  and  silent  spaces,  such  an  awe. 
Who  could  say  what  might  be  behind  this 
crack  ? 

"  Jes'  lemme  take  yer  hammer,  skipper,  fur 
to  see  what  dar  ain  in  here." 

"  O,  nothin' !  There  ain't  nothin'  in  there  ! 
However,  there's  your  hammer." 

'*  Mouglit  see  !  grunted  George,  down  in  his 
contracted  quarters. 

He  stuck  a  claw  of  the  hammer  into  the 
crack,  ripped  off  a  strip  of  sheathing,  and  thrust 
in  a  liand. 

"  Feel  any  thing  ? "  inquired  the  skipper. 

"  Jes'  hole  on  a  moment,"  replied  George,  his 
eyes  enlarging  with  the  delightful  consciousness 
that  he  was  prying  into  the  heart  of  a  mystery. 
He  twisted  his  hand  about,  his  eyes  squirming 
also,  running  in  those  inquisitive  lingers  farther 
and  farther. 

"  Feel  any  thing— dust,  cobwebs,  rats'  nest  ? " 
asked  the  skipper,  sarcastically. 

"Blieb  I  do  a-suthin' ! "  replied  George 
quietly,  and  then  pulled  out  a  handful  of— 
what  ? 

He  lifted  it  up,  and  there  was  a  roll  of  bank- 
bills  ! 

"Hoo-rah!"  shouted  the  skipper,  dancing 
round  like  a  boy. 


292      Drummer-Boy  of  the  Rappahannock. 

"O— why!  Did  you  ever!"  exclaimed  the 
surprised  and  delighted  Nanny,  clapping  her 
hands. 

"  ISTebber  'spise  a  hole  agin  !  May  hab  a  heap 
in  it,  skipper,"  advised  George.  "  Dar  fur 
ye!" 

"  Now  you  can  go  to  the  war.  O  dear !  "  mur- 
mured the  skipper. 

But  Nanny's  first  thought  was  not  upon  this 
subject. 

"  Forrest  is  vindicated,  Uncle  Jerry  ! "  said 
Nanny. 

"  Yes,  and  the  tramp,  too  ! "  cried  the 
skipper. 

That  night  Nanny's  sleep  was  less  disturbed 
than  it  had  been  the  night  before.  She  was 
going  into  that  world  of  which  Forrest  was  a 
part.  Perhaps  she  could  find  him.  Perhaps 
she  could  see  him.     She  was  happy  as  she  slept. 

Slie  was  happy  when  she  awoke  the  next 
morning.  She  felt  that  her  heavenly  Father 
was  approving  of  her  course.  Because  he  ap- 
proved he  was  opening  a  path  for  her  feet.  She 
noticed  the  light  in  her  room.  "Was  the  sun  up  ? 
It  must  be  up,  and  yet  was  not  visible.  Nanny 
looked  out  of  the  window.  The  sun  was  be- 
hind a  low  cloud  of  purple  that  sailed  on  the 
surface  of  a  sea  of  golden  sky.     Along  the  edge 


The  Battle- News  at  Home.  293 

of  this  cloud  was  a  streak  of  silver  tftat  betokened 
the  sun's  presence.  This  streak  became  a  stripe, 
broadening  and  sharpening.  From  silver  it 
changed  to  gold,  flaming  brighter  and  brig])ter, 
an  uneven  band  of  fire,  as  if  it  were  the  surface 
of  an  uneasy,  boiling  caldron.  Siiddeiil}^,  as  if 
this  caldron  were  boiling  over,  one  lustrous 
drop,  more  golden,  more  fiery  than  its  surround- 
ings, came  to  the  surface  and  threatened  to  roll 
over  and  fall  down  into  the  placid  ocean  shining 
beneath.  It  did  not  fall,  but  grew  into  a  little 
ball  of  intensest  fire.  It  enlarged.  And  still  it 
did  not  fall ;  but  it  rose,  swelling,  rising — swell- 
ing, rising — a  semi-sphere,  a  globe  of  dazzling 
light ! 

"There's  the  sun  !  "  said  Nanny. 

And  the  sea,  belted  with  a  zone  of  gold,  seemed 
to  say,  "  There  is  the  sun  !  "  An  oak  near  the 
liouse,  hung  with  brown  leaves,  seemed  to  say 
also,  "  There  is  the  sun  ! "  for  it  brightened  as 
with  a  suddenly  kindled  fire  among  its  branches. 
An  upper  window  in  Skipper  Bowser's  house 
acknowledged  the  coming  of  the  day,  for  it 
showed  an  eye-ball  of  fire,  while  the  long  vane  on 
the  church-steeple,  seen  from  an  opposite  win- 
dow, became  a  lance  of  fire.  And  down  in  the 
barn  a  ray  of  light  shot  through  a  crack,  and  fell 
on  a  watchful  old  rooster,  turning  his  comb  to  a 


294       Drummer- Boy  of  the  MappahaanocJc. 

crown,  and  in  a  jubilant  voice  lie  crowed,  "  This 
is  the  sun  !     Rejoice  !  " 

'  And  into  Nanny's  heart  streamed  a  light,  and 
she  could  say,  "  I  am  glad  it  is  day !  This  is 
my  heavenly  Father's  smile  !  " 

That  morning,  Nanny  and  Aunt  Huldah  both 
were  busy  with  preparations  for  their  departure, 
though  Aunt  Huldah  did  not  expect  to  get 
away  for  three  days.  Nanny  went  the  very 
next  day.  Skipper  Bowser  carried  her  in  the 
Bowser  chariot  to  the  railroad  station.  When 
he  had  said  good-bye  in  the  car,  and  was  com- 
ing out,  trying  to  rub  his  eyes  dry,  he  raw  a  tall 
form  stealthily  edging  his  wa}-  into  another  car. 

"  Why,  if  that  don't  look  like  Gilbert  French  !  " 
said  the  skipper.  "  He  a-goin'  off  ?  Wonder 
where  he  will  turn  up  !  " 

We  all  wonder. 


I7i  an  Old  House.  295 


SUCI 


CHAPTEE  XVII. 

IN    AN    OLD     HOUSE. 

UCH  a  dear  old  house !  "  said  Nanny,  rap- 
ously. 

It  was  a  dear  old  house  indeed,  one  whose  very 
aspect  said,  "  I  am  old."  The  bricks  said,  "  I  am 
old,"  for  did  not  tradition  declare  tliat  the  bricks 
liad  been  brought  from  Holland  ?  And  the  large 
windows  with  their  little  panes,  each  one  said,  "  I 
am  old."  It  was  a  stout,  bulky,  two-story  house, 
capped  by  a  gable  roof ;  which  thus  made  room 
for  that  delightful  institution,  a  garret— where 
one  heard  the  low  crooning  of  the  wind  when  a 
rain  was  coming,  and  then  heard  the  musical 
clatter  on  the  roof  betokening'  its  arrival.  Mrs. 
De  Witt  told  Nanny  that  one  gable-end  carried, 
in  her  younger  days,  a  weather-cock,  "and  it 
must  have  been  imported,  like  the  bricks,"  said 
Mrs.  De  Witt,  "  for  no  bird  like  that  ever  crowed 
this  side  of  the  waters." 

An  ancient  ivy  covered  an  end  of  the  house, 
hiding  every  window  but  one.  Through  the 
day  it  was  a  kind  of   lusterless  eye,  dim  with 


296     Drmnmer-Boy  of  the  Rappaliannock. 

many  years,  but  at  twilight,  when  it  caught  up 
the  sunshine,  it  sparkled  again,  and  youth  seemed 
to  come  back.  The  sparkle  soon  died  out.  It 
was  not  youth,  but  a  short-liv^ed  dream  of  it.  In 
the  roof  was  a  dormer-window.  Nann}^  loved  to 
go  up  there,  and  look  far  away  on  a  strip  of  sil- 
ver sea.  She  did  not  know  what  a  pretty  pict- 
ure her  fresh  youth  made  among  those  ancient 
surroundings. 

Ah  !  amid  the  interesting  things  aloft  we  have 
forgotten  a  relic  below — the  brass  knocker  on  the 
door.  It  was  a  ponderous  thing,  shaped  like  a 
dog's  head.  Callers  would  rap  with  the  knocker, 
and  its  echoes  were  sharp  and  fierce,  like  a  vigi- 
lant mastiff  barking  away.  As  one  entered  the 
hall,  though  he  came  in  hurried  and  bustling,  the 
roar  of  the  world's  strife  sounding  in  his  ears,  it 
began  to  die  away  at  once.  A  voice  seemed  to 
say  :  "  This  is  an  old  house.  People  here  never 
hurry.  Take  breath  and  rest."  It  was  a  charm- 
ing old  hall.  Just  in  front  was  the  staircase, 
not  a  modern  kind,  ever  in  a  hurry  to  get  to 
the  next  story,  and  going  up  by  the  shortest, 
sharpest  flight  possible ;  but  it  made  a  very  leis- 
urely ascent,  taking  all  the  time  and  space  it 
wished.  Two  good  square  turns  did  this  stair- 
case make,  and  so  afforded  two  comfortable  halt- 
ing-places, as  if  it  instinctively  knew  that  all 


In  an  Old  House.  297 

its  climbers  would  be  very  Dutch  and  very  fat. 
On  the  first  landing  was  a  clock  that  Diedrich 
Yan  Somebody  made  in  Holland.  "Don't  hurry," 
said  the  clock.  "  This  time-piece  gives  you  bet- 
ter measure  for  a  minute  than  most  clocks." 

Most  of  the  rooms  in  the  house  had  been 
modernized,  but  one  apartment  remained  just  as 
the  first  carpenters  left  it  one  tired  niglit  when 
their  work  was  over.  Waking  np  from  a  hun- 
dred and  fifty  years'  sleep,  and  then  coming  into 
this  room,  they  could  have  told  it  at  once. 
Overhead  were  big  beams  projecting  from  the 
ceiling,  whose  very  ponderousness  had  appar- 
ently forced  them  down  out  of  their  hiding- 
place,  like  very  modest,  shrinking  people  whose 
great  weiglit  of  character  yet  brings  them  for- 
ward into  notice.  The  room  was  lighted  by  two 
windows  filled  with  little  panes  of  glass.  Tiie 
frames  of  the  windows  were  set  deep  into  the 
ancient  walls.  Each  window-seat  was  broad  and 
ample,  capable  of  holding  two  lovers,  and  there 
was  room  for  a  third  person  if  the  jealousy  of  lov- 
ers would  permit  additional  society.  Every  thing 
— walls,  chimney,  furniture — betrayed  an  ancient 
derivation.  Nanny  was  delighted  to  take  tea 
there  the  night  she  arrived  at  this  home  of  Mrs. 
De  Witt. 

"  What  a  picture  !  "  she  said,  as  she  entered. 


298      Drummer- Boy  of  the  Happahannock. 

A  fire  had  been  kindled  in  the  fireplace,  an  im- 
mense month  of  a  tnnnel  coining  from  some- 
where out  in  tlie  night,  and  opening  into  the 
room.  This  funnel  mouth,  so  big  and  so  black, 
but  jolly  that  night,  was  at  least  seven  feet  long 
and  half  as  deep.  It  was  bordered  with  tiles  ^f 
Delft  earthen-ware.  The  scenes  were  scriptural. 
There  was  tFie  cock  that  crew  when  Peter  denied 
his  Lord;  there  was  blind  Bartimeus  receiving 
his  sight ;  and  there  w\as  Lazarus  lying  at  Dives's 
door.  The  cock,  though,  the  blind  man,  the 
beggar,  and  all  the  other  characters  were  blue  as 
the  ocean  over  which  these  tiles  had  been  car- 
ried. Around  a  heavy,  dark,  well  -  polished 
table  in  the  center  of  the  room  stood  ponderous 
chairs,  claw-footed,  as  if  lions  and  bears  were 
crouching  about  the  table,  but  considerately  had 
disguised  themselves  in  those  wooden  frames, 
showing  nothing  but  their  claws.  The  table 
was  decked  with  pieces  of  quaint  old  Dutch 
ware,  all  blue  like  the  tiles.  On  JSTanny's  plate 
was  a  summer  scene,  men  and  women  in  blue 
raking  hay  that  was  blue  ;  and  blue  horses  were 
waiting  to  carry  it  off  in  blue  carts  to  blue  barns. 
The  tea-pot  was  the  most  cherished  piece  of 
table-ware.  It  had  belonged  to  a  far-away  ances- 
tor of  Mrs.  De  Witt,  a  Van  Cortlandt,  and  he 
had  given  it  to  a  Yan  Der  Heyden,  and  he  had 


la  an  Old  House.  299 

passed  it  to  a  Yan  Djck ;  and,  after  running 
successfully  a  large  gauntlet  of  Vans,  escaping 
the  many  perils  of  liousekeejjing,  it  had  come 
unharmed  into  the  hands  of  its  present  ownei'. 
Its  sides  and  cover  were  decorated  with  dainty 
tea-leaves  that  seemed  to  exhale  a  quickening 
fragrance  ere  a  single  spray  from  far  Cathay  had 
been  set  to  steeping  within.  Most  appetizing 
were  the  suppers  spread  in  that  room.  Most 
of  the  rooms,  as  has  been  already  said,  had 
been  modernized,  and  yet  often  something 
could  be  found  whose  language  was,  "  I  am 
very  old,  don't  you  see  ? " — some  old  spinning- 
wheel,  an  ark-like  oaken  chest,  or  a  chair  with 
fantastic  back. 

This  old  house  had  been  the  liome  of  many 
very  good  people.  Some  one  said  it  Avas  no 
wonder  that  the  lady  De  Witt  was  a  Christian. 

"  Why,"  said  the  old  family-servant,  Margaret, 
"  there's  the  house  to  make  her  good.  I  believe 
in  houses." 

We  all  of  us  have  reason  to  believe  in  houses. 
We  give  a  character  to  our  homes,  and  so  do  our 
liomes  give  a  character  to  us.  The  house  that  is 
an  old  one,  witli  which  go  the  associations  of  the 
varied  deeds  of  its  former  tenants,  becomes  a 
mold  to  shape  the  lives  of  all  within  its  walls. 
Mrs.  De  Witt  herself  was  conscious  of  the  influ- 


300       Drummer-Boy  of  the  Rappahannock. 

ence  of  her  liome,  and  her  plastic  nature  re- 
sponded to  it. 

"  There  are  all  the  De  Witts  back  of  her, 
a-shinin'  line  of  'em,"  said  Margaret.  "•  Slie  has 
to  be  good.     She  can't  help  herself." 

The  literal  statement,  that  one  in  such  fami- 
lies must  be  good,  cannot  be  safely  pressed. 
Yerj  sour  fruit  will  sometimes  hang  on  the 
branches  within  which  run  such  seemingly 
sweet  currents.  And  yet  the  statement  hides  a 
truth.  Behind  Mrs.  De  Witt  stood  that  long 
line  of  ancestors,  those  saintly  fathers  with  the 
white  clerical  wrappings  about  their  necks ; 
those  mothers,  too,  with  the  devotedness  of  Isra- 
el's holy  women  in  their  faces.  Was  slie  not  in 
the  direct  current  of  those  many  praj^ers  issuing 
from  such  lives  ?  Was  she  not  in  the  line  also 
of  those  forces  of  patience,  self-denial,  purity, 
and  reverence  that  had  been  accumulated  in  their 
character  ?  There  are  hereditary  laws  of  trans- 
mission certainly  here  at  work ;  never  putting 
us  beyond  the  need  of  the  renewal  by  tlie  Holy 
Ghost,  and  yet,  in  a  life  that  is  a  part  of  such 
an  ancestral  line,  nature's  need  is  not  so  great  as 
in  a  life  whose  antecedents  have  been  different. 

Mrs.  De  Witt  had  one  of  those  fair  round 
faces  imported  from  Holland  in  the  seventeenth 
century — faces  that  brought  with  them  a  golden- 


In  an  Old  House.  301 

brown  hair  and  bright  bhie  eyes.  The  golden- 
brown  hair  was  now  only  a  fold  of  silver  above 
and  abont  her  face,  the  fair  anreole  that  old  age 
puts  around  the  head  of  its  saints.  The  blue 
eyes,  that  had  lost  their  first  amethyst  sparkle, 
had  gained  in  an  expression  of  peace,  like  lakes 
that  exchange  the  noon's  sharp  luster  for  the  soft, 
restful  shades  of  twilight.  One  beautiful  feature 
of  the  old  lady's  character  was  her  trust  in  her 
heavenly  Father.  It  went  with  her  as  an  atmos- 
phere, not  so  readily  asserted  in  her  words  as 
steadily  felt  in  her  life. 

"  I  don't  know  how  to  describe  it,"  said  Mar- 
garet to  a  house-servant  in  the  neighborhood, 
"  but,  the  folks  that  come  to  our  house,  I  can 
'most  always  tell  what  kind  of  people  they  have 
been  associatin'  with.  And  when  the  old  lady 
comes  down  in  the  morning  looking  so  serene,  I 
know  wdiom  she  has  been  with ;  and  it  is  that 
kind  of  a  face  and  way  about  her  I  notice  so 
often.  I  sometimes  feel  like  saying,  'Whom 
have  you  been  with?'  but  I  check  myself,  for  I 
know  who  it  is,"  and  here  Margaret  looked  rev- 
erently up. 

There  did  surround  that  aged  mother  much 
of  a  Presence  with  whom  she  had  communion. 
It  gave  her  life  that  aspect  of  quiet,  steadfast 
trust  in  Another  and  a  Higher,  attracting  all 


302        Drummer-Boy  of  the  Rrqypahannock. 

who  knew  her.  It  was  a  very  unobtrusive  qnal- 
ity,  escaping  from  her  quietly  as  the  aroma  of  a 
flower;  but  there  it  was,  and  it  made  her  life 
fragrant.  She  took  a  deep  interest  in  every 
thing  that  concerned-  IS'anny.  She  cordially 
welcomed  the  young  patriot,  listened  to  her 
plans,  used  her  influence  in  an  association  with 
which  she  was  connected,  and  which  was  a  kind 
of  agency  for  forwarding  helpers  and  help  to 
the  soldiers  in  the  hospitals,  and  in  two  days 
Nanny  expested  to  be  in  Washington,  and  to  be 
assigned  to  some  kind  of  hospital  duty.  Of 
these  two  days  the  greater  portion  had  passed 
away.  They  were  exciting  but  agreeable  days. 
JN^anny's  going  to  the  great  war  had  not  only 
made  an  appeal  to  her  sense  of  datj'',  laying 
liold  of  a  patriotic  desire  to  serve  her  country,  but 
she  appreciated  her  father's  interest  in  the  colored 
people,  and  wished  to  see  justice  done  them,  and 
by  going  to  the  war  she  now  seemed  to  take  up 
his  cause,  and  help  push  that.  Even  to  her  own 
consciousness,  and  Nanny  was  a  young  woman 
never  classed  as  sentimental  and  fanciful,  this 
active  interest  in  the  war  had  wrapped  Nanny 
Frye  in  an  atmosphere  of  the  unusual  and 
heroic.  Had  not  Belle  De  Witt,  whom  we 
recall  as  Mrs.  De  Witt's  granddaughter,  several 
times  called  her,  "  My  heroine  ? "     Sober-minded 


Ill  an  Old  JI Hise.  303 

Nannj — in  lier  own  regard — was  standing  on  a 
far  higher  pedestal  than  that  she  had  occupied 
at  lionie.     And  was  it  not  higher  ? 

Tlien  it  was  gratifying  to  that  pride  of  which 
Kanny  ]iad  her  share  when  Lidies  of  the  patri- 
otic association  to  which  Mrs.  De  Witt  belonged 
said,  admiringly, 

"This  is  the  young  lady  going  to  the  war. 
How  much  she  is  giving  np !  It  shames  all  our 
yonng  women." 

Nanny's  garments  were  turning  to  the  purple 
and  fine  linen  in  which  the  King's  daughters 
were  arrayed.  Then — had  not  Belle  De  Witt 
intrusted  her  with  a  commission  ? 

"  Nanny,"  said  that  young  lady,  a  delicate 
blush  tinting  her  fair  cheeks,  "  you  may  at  the 
war,  in  some  hospital,  see  Arthur  De  Witt.  He 
is  grandma's  grandson,  but  not  any  relative  of 
mine.  She  was  married  twice,  and  each  time  to 
a  gentleman  of  the  name  of  De  Witt,  and  this 
Arthur  is  only  connected  wMth  me  through  that 
second  marriage,  being  a  grandchild  of  that 
second  husband,  but  not  grandma's — and  he — 
the  husband — no — Arthnr  —he — Arthur — " 

The  pink  in  Belle's  fair  cheeks  had  now  deep- 
ened to  crimson. 

"  See  here,  young  lady,"  exclaimed  Nanny, 
taking  her  companion's  hands,  and  looking 
20 


0  ^  r 

304      Drummer- Boy  of  the  Rappahannock. 

straight  into  the  deep,  beautiful,  now  shrinking 
eyes,  "I  know  it  all  without  your  telling  me. 
Arthur  De  Witt,  the  Southern  soldier,  of  whom 
I  have  heard  your  grandmother  speak,  is  not 
your  relative,  but  may  be  something  nearer! 
And  he  is  at  the  war,  too  !     O  dear  I " 

Belle  blushed  again,  stammered,  and  then  she 
covered  her  face  with  her  hands,  and  began  to 
cry. 

"  Poor  girl !  "  said  Nanny,  who  could  pity  her 
sincerely. 

She  took  her,  as  if  a  child,  to  her  arms,  and 
enfolded  her  in  her  sympathy,  and  she  herself 
cried  when  she  thought  of  Forrest. 

"  Now  I — I  can't  go  into  the  hospitals — the 
doctor  says  I  am  too  weak — but  you  go  just  like 
a  heroine  !  And  if  you  should  see  Arthur  any- 
where, you — " 

"Poor  girl!  Yes,  dear,  I  will  tell  him  all 
about  you,  and  that  will  help  him  more  than 
medicine,  if  he  gets  into  our  hospitals,  and  I 
will  take  the  best  care  of  him  besides,  Now 
don't  you  worry  !  " 

"  1  feel  easier,"  said  Belle,  wiping  away  her 
tears. 

This  little  scene,  and  this  commission  given 
her  by  Belle,  lifted  Nanny's  proposed  work  to 
a  still  greater  altitude  of  importance.     Then  she 


In  an  Old  House.  305 

was  going  to  that  work  from  tlie  old  De  Witt 
mansion :  a  house  so  historic,  so  rich  in  its 
furnishments,  it  seemed  a  fit  threshold  from 
which  to  step  off  upon  that  exalted,  heroic  mis- 
sion, widening  into  untold  usefulness  that  un- 
selfish life  to  whicli  ISTannj  had  dedicated  her- 
self. If  Nanny  had  not  felt  these  things  slie 
would  have  been  an  unusual  girl. 

But,  suddenly,  whose  ungainly  presence  should 
interfere  with  this  atmos})here  of  fine  sentiment 
and  drive  it  away — who  with  abrupt  hands  should 
remove  the  purple  and  fine  linen — whose  nasal 
tones  should  call  her  away  from  this  philan- 
thropic but  heroic  mission  before  her,  but  the 
presence,  hands,  and  voice  of  Skipper  Bowser! 
He  did  not  do  it  personally,  but  by  a  letter  and 
telegram  arriving  before  dark  one  night.  But 
if  it  had  been  Skipper  Bowser  himself,  com- 
ing with  a  hundred  interfering  hands,  and  a 
voice  roaring  like  a  hundred  thunder-bursts,  his 
work  could  not  have  been  more  effectual.  Bat 
Nanny  was  prompt  in  her  reply. 

Mrs.  De  Witt  heard  a  voice  singing,  and  the 
echoes  wandered  over  the  house  as  if  a  bird, 
flying  in  at  one  of  the  deep  old  windows  were 
going  from  room  to  room.  "  Who  is  that  sing- 
ing, Belle  ? "  she  asked  her  granddaughter. 

"ItisNanny  Frye." 


306      Drummer-Boy  of  the  Rappahannock. 

"Is  it?"  Nanny's  voice  bad  wings  and  it 
could  also  give  wings  to  the  soul  that  listened, 
and  it  wafted  one  heavenward,  "  That  takes 
me  right  up,"  said  Mrs.  De  Witt. 

"  Nanny  is  a  sweet  singer,"  exclaimed  Belle, 
who  was  constantly  rehearsing  Nanny's  good 
qualities. 

And  now  the  bird's  notes  went  out  of  a 
window  tliat  chanced  to  be  open.  The  song 
floated  away,  and,  mingling  witli  all  sweet,  fading 
sounds  in  the  dying  day,  died  with  them. 

"That  was  a  blessed  trust  song,  Nanny,  I 
fancy,  from  the  words  I  caught.  Can't  you 
repeat  them  ? "  asked  Mrs.  De  Witt,  w^hen  her 
guest  entered  her  room. 

With  lier  musical  voice  Nanny  gave  a  recita- 
tion that  was  equal  to  her  singing : 

"The  child  leans  on  Us  parent's  breast, 
Leaves  there  its  cares,  and  is  at  rest; 
The  bird  sits  singing  by  his  nest 

And  tells  aloud 
His  trust  in  God,  and  so  is  blessed 

'Neath  every  cloud. 

"  He  has  no  store,  he  sows  no  seed, 
Yet  slugs  aloud  and  doth  not  heed ; 
By  flowing  stream  or  grassy  mead 

He  sings  to  shame 
Men  who  forget,  in  fear  of  need, 

A  Father's  name. 


In  an  Old  House.  307 

•'  The  heart  that  trusts  forever  sings, 
And  feels  as  light  as  it  had  wings ; 
A  well  of  peace  within  it  springs; 

Come  good  or  ill, 
Whate'er  to-day,  to-morrow  brings, 

It  is  His  will!" 

"  I  sing  that  when  in  perplexity.  The  words 
quiet  me."  Nanny  had  been  in  perplexity. 
She  was  singing  her  way  out  of  the  perplexity. 

"  I  hope  you  are  not  worrying  about  any 
thing  ? "  said  Mrs.  DeWitt. 

"  It  was  only  the  old  question — what  one  had 
better  do." 

"  Better  do  ?  Why,  is  not  your  course  plain  ? 
You  go  to  Washington  in  the  morning.  That's 
decided  enough." 

l!^anny  thrust  her  hand  into  a  dress-pocket 
and  brought  out  a  letter  and  a  telegram.  Tliese 
were  the  two  messages  from  Skipper  Bowser. 
The  letter  spoke  of  Aunt  Hnldah  as  indisposed. 
The  telegram  said  :  "  Have  heard  from  Forrest. 
Wounded,  but  doing  well.  Aunt  Huldah  sud- 
denly very  sick,  and  wishes  to  see  you." 

ISTanny  explained  :  "  Aunt  Hnldah  is  a  rela- 
tive living  with  me  who  expected,  when  I  left 
home,  to  come  to  New  York  to  seek  work  here. 
But  suddenly  sickness  has  developed,  it  seems, 
and  she  wishes  to  see  me.  I  feel  that  I  must 
turn  about  and  go  home." 


308     Drummer-Boy  of  the  Rappahannock. 

"  You  go  home  ? "  said  Mrs.  De  Witt  in  a  tone 
of  surprise.     "  Why  !  " 

"Yes,"  said  Nannj,  decidedly.  "It— is  a 
disappointment,  and  I  hated  to  tell  you,  who 
have  given  yourself  so  much  trouble  for  me. 
But  I  think  I  had  better." 

'•  ]^o\v,  you  tell  me  again  how  it  is — all  about 
it.     You  go  through  it  once  more." 

ISTanny  patiently,  thoroughly,  explained  all, 
and  Mrs.  De  Witt  said  : 

"  1  see,  dear.  It  is  a  case  of  duty.  I  will 
make  it  easy  for  you.  Of  course,  I  was  much 
interested  in  your  going  to  the  war  and — " 

"  O,  yes,  you  have  been  very  kind  to  me." 

"And — I  was  going  to  tell  you  about  my 
grandson.  He  is  somewhere,  or  was,  on  the 
rebel  side,  and  I  was  going  to  describe  him,  and 
may  be  you  would  have  seen  him.  O,  he's  a  hand- 
some boy,  if  I  sa}^  it !  Bc^lle  is  his  cousin,  onl}^  by 
marriage,  though,  and  looks  like  him,  and — ."  She 
said  nothing  more  for  a  minute,  and  then  added 
abstractedly,  "but  nothing  may  come  from  it." 

"  I  understand." 

"  I  like  you  because  you  do  understand  and 
catch  at  things,"  said  the  old  lady,  positively, 
little  knowing  what  a  commission  Belle  had 
given  Nann3\  "  If  you  had  gone  you  might — 
there  is  no  telling — in  some  way  have  met  Ar- 


In  an   Old  House.  309 

tlmr,  but  now— well,  let  it  go !  We  must  see  to 
it  that  now  you  get  home.  Of  course,  it  is  a 
disappointment." 

Nanny  nodded  her  head,  and  then  added  : 

"  But  if  it  was  a  duty  to  go,  I  can  see  now 
that  it  is  a  duty  not  to  go." 

"  And  you  can  leave  it  there.  And  Forrest, 
too,  is  better,  or  doing  well.  That  is  a  com- 
fort." 

A  deeper  well  from  which  to  draw  waters  of 
comfort  than  Mrs.  De  Witt  imagined. 

Nanny  now  tried,  with  all  the  strength  of  her 
nature,  to  take  her  thoughts  off  from  the  war 
as  hei-  place  of  work,  and  turn  them  homeward. 

"  Nanny  is  very  reasonable,"  her  father  had 
once  said.  "  When  she  sees  that  she  must  do  a 
thing  she  makes  up  her  mind  to  it,  and  acts  ac- 
cordingly." She  had  her  share  of  human  nat- 
ure that  is  a  positive  quantity  in  us  all,  but 
when  Nanny  began  her  journey  home  she  tried 
to  think  of  the  Port  as  the  one  great,  impor- 
tant destination  for  her  in  this  world.  When 
at  the  Port  she  saw  from  a  car-platform  Skip- 
per Bowser,  in  response  to  a  telegram,  faith- 
fully waiting  for  her,  that  he  miglit  carry  her 
home  in  his  old  red  sleigh,  she  felt  that  this  con- 
veyance was  the  one  for  her — rather  tlian  any  of 
the  railroad  trains  noisily  carrying  supplies  of 


310     Drummer-Boy  of  the  Rappahannock. 

nurses  on  to  the  dolorons  hospitals  at  Washing- 
ton or  down  in  Virginia.  When  the  skipper 
had  left  her  at  the  door  of  the  old  home,  and 
she  had  hurried  up  into  Aunt  Huldah's  room 
and  saw  the  old  familiar  chamber  that  had  been 
her  father's,  its  plain,  brown-painted  floor  half- 
concealed  by  home-made  carpets,  the  old-fash- 
ioned curtains  draped  about  the  windows,  the 
antique  bedstead  in  the  corner  bearing  up  a 
patient  worn  and  tliin,  a  pale,  sad  face  breaking 
out  into  such  a  welcoming,  contented  smile,  fhe 
husky  voice  saying,  "  O,  thank  God ! "  then 
Nanny,  as  she  put  her  arms  about  poor  Aunt 
Huldali's  neck,  felt  that  just  here  was  her  mis- 
sion. 

"  Poor  auntie  !  "  she  murmured.  "  I'll  take 
care  of  you." 

Something  else  happened.  It  was  after  a 
supper  in  the  plain  old  kitchen,  with  skipper 
and  Mirandy  Jane,  who  had  brouglit  their 
own  "  fixin's,"  as  they  said,  and  "jest  wanted 
to  use  her  cups  and  sassers  anl  plates."  This 
supper  made  Nanny  exclaim,  "  O,  there  is  noth- 
ing like  home  ! " 

When  they  had  gone,  and  a  "  liired  woman  " 
taking  care  of  Aunt  Huldali  had  turned  into 
her  nest — when  the  house  was  still,  and  only 
the  cheerful  voice  of  the  old  clock  patiently  call- 


1)1  an   Old  House.  311 

ing  off  the  moments  during  its  watcli  in  the 
entry  could  be  heard — then  Aunt  Huldah  told 
Nanny  something  that  "  was  on  her  mind," 
something  "important,"  something  "if  told 
'twould  make  her  feel  easy."  ISTow  Nanny  felt 
still  more  forcibly  that  her  mission  was  here,  for, 
though  it  did  not  bear  upon  the  welfare  of  the 
army  in  general,  it  did  pertain  to  the  interests 
of  one  dear  soldier  in  the  grand  old  Army  of 
the  Potomac. 

•^'  Now,  I  am  easy  ! "  said  Aunt  Huldah. 

"  Are  you  ?  I  am  glad  !  "  said  Nurse  Frye, 
for  Nanny  felt  that  she  ha-l  gone  into  hospital- 
service  at  home.  "  After  all,  I  will  be  a  nurse," 
thought  Nanny  ;  "  what  Forrest  often  used  to  say 
I  was  cut  out  for."  And  that  evening,  winding 
lier  handkerchief  about  her  liead  like  the  folds 
of  a  cap,  she  looked  into  the  glass  to  see  what 
she  thought  of  "  Nurse  Frye."  If  Forrest  had 
been  there  he  would  have  said  that  she  made  a 
very  good-looking  nurse.  Her  mission,  through 
Aunt  Huldah's  revelation,  had  a  very  special 
connection  with  a  sink  soldier  also. 

"I  will  w^rite  off  to  the  army  to-morrow," 
said  Nanny.  "  Now  I'll  make  every  thing  fast 
about  the  house." 

When  she  came  back  she  stepped  to  Aunt 
Huldali's  bed  and  held  the  lamp  above  her. 


312     Drummer-Boy  of  the  Rappahannock. 

"  Win',  if  she  isn't  asleep !  So  soon ! " 
thought  Xannj,  turning  away.  "  Now  I'll  have 
mj  prayers." 

She  thought  of  Forrest  when  she  prayed,  and 
commended  him  to  God.  She  had  been  told  by 
Forrest,  in  a  letter  written  even  before  he  had 
begun  to  pray  sincerely  for  himself,  that  he  liked 
to  think  of  her  prayers  for  him.  In  a  copy  of  a 
paper  distributed  among  the  soldiers  he  read  one 
day  that  beautiful  verse  about  Sandalphon,  the 
angel  of  prayer : 

"  He  gatliers  the  prayers  as  he  stands, 
Aud  they  chaoge  into  flow^ers  in  his  hands, 

Into  garlands  of  purple  and  red ; 
And  through  the  great  city  immortal 

Is  wafted  the  fragrance  they  shed." 

And  Forrest  thought  he  saw  Nanny's  prayers 
blossoming  into  such  a  purple  and  red  glory. 


The  Hospital  by  the  Rappahannock.     313 


CHAPTER  XYIIL 

THE  HOSPITAL  BY  THP]  RAPPAHANNOCK. 

"  TiniAT  do  jou  say,  Cy  ?    The  tramp  ?    You 

VV  don't  say  so !  Where  is  he  %  "  asked  For- 
rest, looking  np  from  his  bed  made  on  tlie  floor 
of  a  private  house — a  bed  that  was  companion 
to  three  others  in  that  room. 

"  In  the  next  room,"  replied  Griffin,  who  had 
been  detailed  to  act  as  nurse.  "  Had  a  fearful 
night  after  he  got  wounded,  but  they  brought 
him  o£E  at  last,  and  brought  him  over  the  river. 
He  did  a  good  job  for  you,  Bub.  A  man  who 
got  w^ounded  in  that  part  of  the  field  saw  it 
all.  Trickey  gave  you  a  bayonet-wound  and  he 
would  have  ended  it  by  shooting  you,  but  this 
feller,  Dan  Englisli,  bore  down  on  Trickey, 
shoved  his  gun  aside,  and  finished  him  ;  but  he 
got  what  Trickey  meant  for  you.  It  was  a  ter- 
rible wound,  they  say — jest  missing  you — " 

"  Poor  feller  !  Too  bad !  Seems  to  me  every 
man  ought  to  take  what  was  meant  for  him,  and 
not  another  get  it." 

"  Well,  you  were  not  in  a  condition  to  decide 


314     Drummer- Boy  of  the  HappahannocJ:. 

the  matter,  Bub.  It  showed  that  he  thought  a 
good  deal  of  you  ;  didn't  it  ?" 

"  1  guess  it  did.  Too  bad  !  Poor  feller  !  I 
always  fancied  the  man  when  he  was  round 
Captain  Frye's.  Generous  and  frank,  you  know. 
He  had  one  trouble — but  we  all  have  something  ; 
and  there's  the  pledge  I  told  you  about — in  Skip- 
per Bowser's  boat-shop,  you  know — to  show  he 
meant  to  get  over  that  trouble.  Too  bad  !  Too 
bad  !  He  brought  me  out  of  the  water,  you  re- 
member, and  now  he  saved  me  from  Trickey  ! 
I  am  sure  I  am  grateful — only — I  wish  I  could 
take  his  place.     Poor  feller !  " 

While  Griffin  bustled  about,  handing  bowls 
of  gruel  to  the  patients  or  making  their  beds 
more  comfortable,  Forrest  lay  in  silent,  profound 
thought.  His  mind  went  back  to  that  foggy 
night  by  the  sea,  to  the  flaring  crimson  of  the 
forge  flames,  to  the  black  wreck  and  the  rescue, 
to  his  own  escape  from  drowning. 

Griffin  soon  went  into  an  adjoining  room,  and, 
halting  at  the  first  bed  on  the  right,  looked 
down  upon  its  occupant.  There  in  the  high, 
white  forehead,  the  delicate  but  firm  contour, 
the  pointed  beard,  was  the  tramp,  Daniel  En- 
glish. Across  his  forehead  was  that  old  scar,  the 
stamp  of  high  and  honorable  service.  Would 
his  recent  wounds  heal  ? 


TJie  Hospital  by  the  Rappahannock.      315 

"  Fast  asleep !  "  murmured  Griffin,  and  then 
stole  back  to  Forrest. 

"  Did  you  see  him  ?  "  asked  Forrest. 

"  Yes,  but  lie  is  asleep.  They  say  he  was  an 
orderly  sergeant,  and  the  talk  is,  as  both  lieu- 
tenants in  his  company  were  shot,  they'll  jump 
him  right  up.  Shouldn't  wonder  if  he  got  to 
be  a  cap'n.     Wise  lookin'  chap  !  " 

Daniel  English  did  not  readily  rally,  for  the 
doctors  said  he  was  more  seriously  hurt  than 
Forrest,  and  sometimes  they  looked  exceedingly 
sober  when  they  spoke  of  his  case.  As  soon  as 
he  and  Forrest  were  equal  to  it  little  messages 
of  a  friendly  nature  were  sent  from  one  to  the 
other. 

"  I  want  to  see  you  and  thank  you,"  said  For- 
rest, "  as  soon  as  1  can  come  in." 

"  And  I  owe  much  to  you,  and  have  much 
that  I  want  to  say  to  you  on  an  important  mat- 
ter," replied  the  tramp. 

"  What  is  the  important  matter  ?  "  wondered 
Griffin. 

He  touched  upon  it  himself  one  day. 

"Griffin,  they  say  Forrest  is  doing  so  well 
that  he  can  be  in  to  see  me  soon.  But  before 
tliat  I  want  to  tell  you  what  is  on  my  mind,  and 
perhaps  you  will  then  break  it  to  him.  I  don't 
know  as  I  could  stand  it  to  tell  it  to  him  at  once. 


316     Drummer-Boy  of  the  Rappahannock. 

It  would  be  too  trying,  and — and — I  am  steadily 
growing  weaker." 

"  O,  chirk  up  !  "  said  Griffin  cheerily. 

English  shook  his  head. 

"  What  is  it  that  is  on  his  mind  ? "  thought 
Griffin. 

He  found  out  one  day.  He  sat  down  by  the 
bed  of  English  to  hear  the  message  he  wished 
to  send  to  Forrest.  With  white,  wasted  face, 
English  lay  upon  his  couch,  his  large,  serious 
eyes  fastened  upon  the  wall,  as  if  trying  to  look 
through  it  and  beyond  it  to  the  far-off  misty  days 
of  the  past. 

"  Do  you  know  who  I  am,  Griffin  ? "'  he  asked 
abruptly,  still  looking  at  the  wall. 

"  I  don't  know  who  you  are  unless  you  are 
just  what  every  body  says  you  are  :  Dan  English, 
and  a  brave  feller;  and  goin'  to  be  a  cap'n  or  a 
gin'ral,  and  lead  the  rest  of  us — a  lot  of  cowards 
— against  the  rebs  and — " 

English  interrupted  him — "  O  that  will  never 
bo  !     I — I — am — " 

He  luuked  steadily  at  Griffin  and  Griffin  re- 
turned the  searching  gaze. 

"  I  am — Forrest — Hooper's  father !  " 

"  The  jabbers  you  are ! "  cried  Griffin,  hop- 
ping up  from  his  seat  on  the  floor.  '-You  in 
your  senses  ? " 


The  Hospital  by  the  Rcqypahannock.       317 

He  stood  erect,  looking  down  in  astonishment 
on  his  patient. 

"  Forrest  Hooper's  father  !  Yes,  I  am  that !  " 
murmured  English. 

There  was  silence  for  a  few  moments,  Griffin 
still  looking  down  and  wondering  if  English 
were  not  out  of  his  head. 

"  Well,  if  things  don't  happen  in  this  world ! 
All  I  can  say  is  he  is  a  noble  boy,  that  Forrest, 
and  you  have  acted  worthy  of  him." 

"  Ycu  think  so  ? "  asked  English,  with  a  grati- 
fied smile. 

"  I  hiow  so !      No  think  or  guess  about  it." 

"  Now  you'll  say,  how  can  1  prove  it  ? " 

"No,  no,  comrade!  None  of  your  provin'. 
I  am  satisfied.  You  have  shown  yourself  wor- 
tliy  to  be  a  gin'ral  and  altogether  above  the  rest 
of  us.  Eest  of  us  must  stay  drummers  and  sich 
like." 

But  the  sick  soldier  was  feebly  fumbling  in 
his  bosom  and  now  produced  a  locket. 

"  Won't  you  read  what's  on  the  back  side  and 
open  it.  Griffin  ?" 

Griffin  read:  "Little  Forrest,"  and,  opening 
it,  saw  a  little  boy  in  a  child's  frock. 

"  That's  the  way  he  used  to  look.  You  can 
show  it  to  him  some  time.  He  may  have  a 
picture  like  it  at  home.     Don't  go  now.     Get 


318     Drummer-Boy  of  the  Rappahannock. 

my  knapsack,  please,  and  bring  me  some  letters 
marked  '  My  wife.'  " 

When  Griffin  had  produced  them  he  was 
told  to  examine  some  of  them.  They  were 
old  letters  from  Forrest's  mother,  full  of  descrip- 
tions of  the  place  where  Forrest  lived,  and  of 
references  to  the  neighbors,  to  Captain  Frye, 
Skipper  Bowser,  and  even  to  a  "  little  Nanny." 
Only  a  person  in  the  situation  of  Forrest's 
mother  could  have  written  them. 

"O!"  exclaimed  Griffin,  "I  brought  along 
this,  not  thinking." 

"My  Bible.  Open  it  to  the  fly-leaf  and  just 
read." 

" '  Daniel  Hooper,  from  his  friend,  Captain 
Frye,'  "  said  the  fly-leaf. 

"  O,  I  see!"  said  Griffin.  "I  see  how  it  is. 
Don't  pile  on  your  proofs !  A  man  who  has 
done  well  as  you  need  jest  say  so.  Shall  I 
tell  Forrest — I  mean — Bub  \ " 

"  Wait !  I  want  to  say  something.  I  used 
to  live  near  Cap'n  Frye's,  when  Forrest  was  lit- 
tle. I  was  a  sailor  then,  and  I  was  at  home  off 
and  on,  coasting  the  most  of  my  time.  After 
the  death  of  my  wife  I  went  away,  leaving  For- 
rest at  Cap'n  Frye's,  sincerely  anxious  to  return 
and  be  of  service  to  my  child.  I  went  to  Cah- 
fornia    to    work    in    its   mines,    taking    a    poor 


The  Hospital  by  the  Rappahminock.      319 

companion — an  old  drinking  habit  that  seemed 
to  shimber  while  my  wife  was  living,  but  it 
woke  up  again  tliere  in  California.  It  pulled 
me  down  as  often  as  I  tried  to  rise,  and  kept  me 
discouraged.  I  say  '  it ' — I  don't  mean  to  excuse 
myself,  for  I  know  that  'it'  means  'me.'  I 
wrote  to  Cap'n  Frye  several  times,  saying  that  I 
hoped  soon  to  return.  I  became  disgusted  with 
myself  for  saying  and  not  doing;  and  at  last  I 
stopped  writing  until  I  could  say  just  when  I 
would  return,  and  until  I  had  something  to  re- 
turn with.  I  made  no  progress,  though,  in 
accumulating  money  ;  and  I  determined  at  last 
that  I  would,  any  wa}^,  see  my  son,  from  whom  I 
had  been  separated  so  long,  and  1  started  for 
the  East.  I  was  several  years  on  my  journey — 
I  am  ashamed  to  say  it — working  in  a  ])lace  a 
year,  and  getting  ahead  a  little,  only  to  go  back 
through  drink;  gaining  and  losing  conthuially. 
I  went  to  the  war,  was  wounded,  and  was  honor- 
ably discharged  from  the  service.  I  wanted  to 
find  Forrest,  and  see  if  I  could  not  be  a  fatlier,  . 
to  him.  At  last,  tramp-like,  1  turned  up  at  Capt. 
Frye's  shop.  I  did  not  know  Forrest  then — he 
has  changed  so.  What  I  said  in  a  conversation 
upon  drinking  was  no  credit  to  me.  I  saw 
Forrest  rising.  I  knew  that  Mrs.  Do  Witt 
w^ould  help  him  get  an  education  and  that  he 
21 


320     Drummer- Boy  of  the  Rappahannock. 

would  rise  higher  some  day.  People  did  not 
seem  to  recognize  me,  thought  I  was  a  tramp — 
yon  see  I  came  a-walking  that  I  might  save  my 
money  for  him — "' 

"  l!^ow  had  you  not  better  be  quiet  and  rest 
awhile?  Put  off  your  story  till  to-morrow," 
suggested  Griffin. 

"I  feel  that  it  must  be  done  to-day;  and  I 
shall  be  all  right  in  a  little  while.  I  disgraced 
myself,  you  remember,  in  the  fish-house,  and,  not 
knowing  what  I  was  doing,  forced  Forrest,  al- 
most, to  drink.  I  determined  to  go  off,  but  first  I 
signed  the  pledge,  helped  by  something  Nanny 
Frye  said  to  me — that  there  was  no. telling  how 
high  folks  might  go  in  this  life.  I  went  back  to  the 
war,  determined  I  would  do  as  well  as  I  could, 
and  I  hoped  to  come  back  some  day,  to  be  a 
help  perliaps,  and  not  a  hinderance,  to  Forrest ; 
to  take  him  up  and  not  pull  him  clown.  Tlie  old 
name,  Daniel  Hooper,  would  not  help  him,  and 
Daniel  Englisli  would  not  hurt  him.  I  never 
felt  right  about  taking  that  name  English  and 
shuffling  off  Hooper,  but  my  motive  was  good. 
Well,  I  have  tried  to  become  a  new  man,  and  I 
hope  God  has  broken  my  chains  of  drink.  I 
was  in  the  battle,  the  other  day,  and  you  know 
the  rest." 

He  stopped.     Looking  up  into  Griffin's  face, 


The  Hospital  by  the  Rappahannock.     321 

he  said,  '•  To-morrow  I  will  see  Forrest, 
and  I  am  going  to  drop  'English'  and  be 
'  Hooper,'  and  get  a  new  name." 

"  You  want  me  to  tell  Fori-est  this  ? "  asked 
Griffin. 

*'  Yes ;  tell  all  jou  can,  and  I'll  say  the 
rest." 

When  Griffin  went  back  to  Forrest,  the  latter 
was  looking  at  a  letter, 

"  Mail  come,  Bub  ? " 

"  Yes,  and  letters  from  home  ;  and  what  do 
you  think  this  one  from  i^anny  Frye  says?" 

"  Dunno." 

"  Wliy,  she  tells  a  strange  story.  I  had,  or 
she  has,  rather,  an  Aunt  Huldah,  and  she  called 
Nanny  back  from  a  place  near  JSTew  York — 
Nanny,  3'ou  see,  was  coming  out  this  way  as 
nurse — but  Aunt  Huldah  called  her  back  and 
had  something  important  to  tell  her ;  and  what 
she  did  say  was  something  about  that  Sergeant 
English.  Guess  what !  Of  all  the  strange  things 
— now  guess  !  " 

"Well,  that  he  is  your  father." 

"  What  makes  you  think  so  ? " 

"  He  has  just  told  me  so." 

"Well,  that  is  strange!  My  father!  My 
father!" 

And  Forrest  lay  back  in    his  bed,  his  eyes 


322       Drummer-Boy  of  the  Rappahannock. 

fastened  in  wonder  on  the  stained  ceiling  over- 
liead.     "  Mj  father  !  "  he  said  again. 

"  Yes/'  said  Griffin,  "  and  goin'  to  be  an  honor 
to  you — a  General  Hooper,  or  suthin'  as  good." 

"  Mj  father !  "  exclaimed  Forrest  again,  his 
eyes  still  fastened  on  the  ceiling.  "  Well,  I  owe 
him  a  debt  of  gratitude  big  enough,  for  he  saved 
my  life  twice." 

"  Then  that  old  lady  says  he  is  your  father  ? " 

"  Yes,  she  knew  him," 

What  Aunt  Hnldah  communicated,  briefly, 
was  this :  She  had  met  Daniel  Hooper  in  New 
York,  and  he  had  befriended  her  and  told  her 
who  he  was.  Aunt  Huldah  felt  that  Forrest 
ought  to  know  it,  and  if  Nanny  was  going  to  the 
war  then  Nanny  was  the  proper  person  to  be 
made  custodian  of  this  secret.  Aunt  Hnldah 
was  influenced  by  another  reason.  There  were 
property  interests  among  the  Hoopers.  Forrest 
ought  to  know  of  these,  declared  Aunt  Hnldah. 
"No  tellin',"  she  told  Nanny,  "no  tell  in'  what 
may  happen.  Forrest  ought  to  know  about  it. 
His  fatlier  was  so  chop-fallen  to  think  how  he 
had  acted,  that  I  am  afraid  he  may  be  backward 
to  tell  Forrest  who  he  is  and  all  about  the  prop- 
erty, too.  I  feel  easier  to  have  you  know  it. 
He  told  me  not  to  tell  till  he  acted  better." 

Nanny  quickly  discharged  her  trust,  and  in 


The  Hospital  by  the  Eappahannock.       323 

the  hospital  by  the  Eappahannock  Forrest  soon 
knew  aih  It  came  in  good  time  to  buttress  and 
support  all  that  Griffin  reported. 

"My  father!"  Forrest  kept  murmuring  in 
astonishment. 

In  the  niglit,  word  from  the  next  ward  came 
that  "the  sergeant"  was  growing  weaker. 
Griffin  went  to  his  bed,  and  saw  that  it  was  so. 
Hooper  seemed  more  restful  in  mind,  though, 
as  if  he  had  dropped  some  burden.  He  saw 
Griffin's  anxious  face  and  guessed  the  reason  of 
it.  "  Don't  you  worry.  I  shall  live  until  to- 
morrow to  see  him,  but  let  him  come  early." 

Early  in  the  morning  Forrest  was  borne  in 
Griffin's  arms  to  the  couch  of  his  father  and  laid 
near  him,  and  there  Forrest  was  left  by  the 
drummer. 

When  Griffin  went  again,  he  saw  Forrest  in 
tears,  his  arm  about  his  lather's  neck. 

"It's  all  right,"  whispered  the  dying  man. 
"  Did  you  change  my  name?  " 

"  O,  yes  !  "  said  Griffin.  "  I  put  it  on  this 
card.     Said  I  would,  to  show  the  surgeon." 

"  Lay  it  where  I  can  see  it." 

Griffin  laid  it  on  the  bed. 

"  Put  my  Bible  where  I  can  see  it." 

Then  Daniel  Hooper  closed  his  eyes.  On  one 
side  of  the  bed   was  his  name,  on   the   other 


324       Drummer-Boy  of  the  Rappahannock. 

that  book  telling  of  Him  on  whom  he  leaned — 
the  rod  and  stall  of  the  pilgrim  through  the 
valley. 

"  He  is  going,  Forrest,"  whispered  Griffin. 

Forrest  made  no  reply.  He  only  bowed  his 
head  down  to  the  breast  of  his  father,  crying 
bitterly. 

"He  has  gone !"  said  Griffin.  There  was  a 
gasp,  a  quivering  of  the  lips  like  the  flutter  of 
the  wings  of  a  soul  that  was  departing,  and  then 
this  house  of  the  body  was  tenantless  forever. 
"  He  has  gone !. "  whispered  Griffin  once  more. 

The  only  reply  was  that  of  the  morning  sun, 
that  stole  tlirough  the  window,  and,  shooting 
a  ray  upon  the  card  that  lay  upon  the  bed, 
brought  out  into  distinctness  the  new  name 
tliere,  "  Daniel  Hooper."  Like  One  of  old,  he 
had  given  his  life  for  another. 


In  the  A7'my  Log-Hut.  325 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

IN    THE    ARMY    LOG-HUT. 

'•  rpHERE,"  said  Griffin,  one  raw,  blustering 
X    niglit,  throwing  down  an  armful  of  wood 
that  lie  had  cut  in  the  forest ;  "  now  we  will 
have  some  heat  out  of  this  old  fire-place." 

He  and  Forrest  were  in  one  of  the  multitu- 
dinous log-huts  in  which  two  great  armies  on 
opposite  sides  of  the  Rappahannock  were  shel- 
tered after  the  battle  of  Fredericksburg.  The 
Union  army  was  on  the  Falmouth  side. 
Tliese  huts  had  walls  of  logs  and  roofs  of  can- 
vas. They  were  furnished  wath  fire-places.  In 
such  army-homes  the  fire-places  were  built  of 
stone  or  brick  or  wood,  and  the  chimney  also 
mio-ht  be  of  wood.  In  the  latter  case,  where 
wood  was  used,  there  was  a  thick  lining  of  mud. 
A  neglected  chimney  in  the  neighborhood  might 
supply  brick,  or,  if  stone  were  plentiful,  the 
chimneys  of  the  log-huts  would  indicate  it. 
Forrest  and  Griffin  occupied  one  of  these  winter- 
homes.  Forrest  had  gone  into  such  a  retreat 
as  soon  as  Griffin  could  build  it  and  he  him- 


326     Drummer-Boy  of  the  Roppahannodc. 

self  was  convalescent  enough  to  occupy  it. 
Would  you  like  to  see  the  inside  of  these  rough 
arniy-honies,  sheltering  so  many  of  the  fathers  of 
the  generation  now  stepping  out  into  active  life  ? 
If  the  fathers  had  not  lived  so  humbly  and  roughly 
the  sons  and  daughters  might  not  have  the  so 
often  easy  and  luxurious  homes  of  to-day.  Un- 
doubtedly the  prosperity  now  is  founded  in  part 
on  the  hardships  of  those  army-days. 

But  take  a  peep  into  Forrest's  home.  It  is 
not  spacious,  for  it  was  made  for  only  two. 
Look  at  the  roof.  That  is  only  the  two  half- 
shelters  owned  by  Forrest  and  Griffin,  and  now 
rising  tent-like  above  the  log  walls.  The  chinks 
in  these  walls  were  supposed  to  be  plastered 
tight  with  mud,  but  a  suspiciously  cold  draft 
was  sometimes  proof  to  the  contrary.  At  the 
end  of  this  little  coop  was  a  single  bunk.  The 
boards  from  boxes  of  "  liard  tack,"  so  often  the 
soldier's  ration,  had  been  shaped  by  Griffin  into 
a  sleeping-box  at  night,  and  Forrest  had  stuffed 
old  grain-sacks  with  pine-tips  for  a  mattress. 
There  was  a  rude  table,  consisting  of  a  hard- 
tack -  box  cover  resting  on  four  oaken  stakes 
driven  into  the  ground. 

"  One  thing  sure  in  tliis  uncertain  world," 
exclaimed  Forrest,  ''  and  tliat  is  our  table." 

There  was  a  single  bench,  whose  seat  consisted 


In  the  Army  Log- Hut.  327 

of  one  half  of  the  split  trunk  of  a  young  oak, 
and  tills  was  supported  on  primitive  legs  from 
the  forest-boughs.  One  stool,  three-legged,  had 
a  solitary  look,  but  it  was  "  awful  handy,"  Grif- 
fin said.  Pegs  were  driven  into  the  log  walls, 
and  from  these  would  generally  hang  such 
familiar  playthings  of  a  soldier  as  his  bayonet- 
belt  and  cartridge-box.  The  old  canteen  and 
haversack,  those  very  serviceable  friends,  were 
here  hung,  while  the  muskets  of  the  infantry 
had  their  appropriate  pegs  on  which  to  recline 
and  idly  dream  of  war.  This  was  a  drummer's 
tent,  and  the  drums  at  one  side  declared  it.  At 
the  head  of  the  bunk  were  packages  of  under- 
clothing, socks,  and  other  comforts.  These 
were  trunks  by  day  and  pillows  at  night.  For- 
rest had  made  a  little  shelf  above  the  rough 
lire-place,  and  here  were  the  dishes  of  the  es- 
tablishment: two  tin  dippers,  two  tin  plates, 
two  knives  and  forks,  two  spoons,  and  a  few 
other  table  conveniences;  for  Forrest,  and  Grif- 
fin also,  had  received  packages  from  home,  and 
some  of  their  table  wants  had  thus  been  sup- 
plied. By  the  side  of  the  fire-place  was  a  fry- 
ing-pan. The  chimney  of  tlie  fire-place  was, 
again,  worthy  of  notice,  generally  constructed 
of  split  wood  laid  in  the  style  of  cob  houses, 
the  cracks  filled  and  the  interior  lined  with  Yir- 


328     Druuuiter-Boy  of  the  Ra2:>pahannock. 

ginia's  soft  and  famous  red  mud.  Beef  or  pork 
barrels  miglit  be  used,  one  being  piled  upon 
another.  Sometimes  tliis  extemporized  chim- 
ney would  catch  fire.  Then  the  commotion 
could  be  described  as  lively.  Did  fire  threaten 
from  below  and  water  from  above  ?  Yes,  it 
would  rain  in  Virginia,  the  same  as  elsewhere, 
and  the  roof  would  leak.  Griffin  or  Forrest  might 
have  spread  the  old  army  poncho  or  rubber  blan- 
ket on  the  outside  of  the  flimsy  roof,  and  this 
protected  as  far  as  it  extended.  If  they  woke 
np  in  the  night  and  heard  the  dismal  winter  rain 
pattering  on  the  tent-roof  they  were  generally 
averse  to  making  any  out-door  excursion,  and. 
to  spreading  any  thing  on  the  leaky  canvas. 
They  would  pull  their  rubber  blankets  over  them 
and  let  the  water  run  where  it  would,  provided 
it  flowed  outside  the  bunk.  This  small  coop 
was  occupied  by  "  The  Twins,"  so  a  little  pla- 
card without  said. 

Griffin,  the  night  of  our  present  chapter,  had 
brought  in  an  armful  of  wood  and  proceeded 
to  lay  a  portion  of  it  on  tlie  coals  in  the  fire- 
place. As  he  stirred  the  fire  he  proceeded  to 
discuss  the  sutler.  That  benevolent  being  was 
privileged  to  follow  an  army  and  peddle  out  to  the 
soldiers  any  needed  stores,  but  he  was  forbidden 
to  peddle  liquor.     The  wood  was  green  and  the 


In  the  Army  Log-Hat.  329 

bed  of  coals  not  so  fierj  as  might  have  been,  and 
Griffin  tlien  proceeded  to  discuss  the  lire  while 
Forrest  was  trying  to  make  a  candle  stand  iirm 
on  its  stick,  a  small  block  of  wood.  Suddenly 
a  knock  was  heard  outside  the  little  shanty,  and 
the  knocker  did  not  wait  until  Griffin  had 
shouted,  "  Come  in,  if  you  can  give  the  pass- 
word !  "  but  pushed  promptly  in. 

Forrest's  first  thought  was,  "  What  a  tall  fel- 
low !  His  head  will  go  up  through  our 
roof." 

"  Good-evenin' !  "  said  the  stranger.  "  My 
name  is  Yarney." 

"  ^o  matter  what  it  is  !  "  said  Griffin.  "  Folks 
are  welcome  'slong  as  they  behave — and  'slong 
as  they  can  get  in  !  " 

Griffin  laughed. 

"Don't  wonder  you  say  that,"  replied  Yar- 
ney, good-naturedly.     "  Guess  I'll  sit  down." 

"Why,  who  is  that?"  thought  Forrest. 
"  Yoice  sounds  natural,  but  I  am  sure  I  never 
saw  such  a  looking  chap.  He  is  all  height,  and 
all  beard  and  hair." 

This  strange  Yarney  was  not  only  very  tall, 
but  he  had  an  immense  beard  and  a  huge  head 
of  hair. 

"  Looks  like  a  hay-stack  set  on  a  bean-pole," 
was    Griffin's    description    of   him.      "An   old 


330      Drummer-Boy  of  the  Rappahannock. 
ostrich,  I  know.      And    lie's    goin'   to    put  on 


t  " 


speck 

A  pair  of  sharp,  glittering  spectacles  did  not 
make  the  tall  ostrich  a  less  noticeable  object. 

When  he  had,  as  Forrest  characterized  it, 
"  put  in  Jiis  double  windows,"  Forrest  was  more 
mystified  than  ever,  though  he  thought  the 
voice  sounded  natural.  Seating  himself  on  the 
rough,  plain  bench  in  this  home  of  "  The 
Twins,"  Yarnej  abruptly  inquired : 

"'  A  man  who  had  the  name  of  English,  and 
yet  was  something  else,  died  here  in  camp 
lately,  didn't  he?" 

"  He  was  my  father,"  said  Forrest,  with 
dignity. 

"  He  was,  was  he  ? "  replied  Yarney,  in  a 
cold,  hard  tone.  "  He  owed  me  money.  Did 
he  leave  any  paper  about  it,  or  say  any 
thing?" 

"  No,"  said  Griffin.  "  When  a  man  has  got 
his  hands  full  of  dyin'  you  can't  expect  him  to 
be  thinkin'  of  every  thing." 

"  Well,  what  about  the  people  who  live  to 
suffer  ? " 

"Let  the  people  who  live  to  suffer  prove  that 
they  have  got  any  thing  that  they  can  claim," 
said  Forrest,  promptly. 

"  Well,  young  man,  I  guess  the  proof  can  be 


lit  the  Army  Log- Hat.  331 

given.  It  don't  look  well  to  die  and  s:ij  noth- 
ing about  your  creditors." 

"  It  don't  look  well  to  be  going  round  and 
slandering  dead  people's  good  name  when  you 
don't  show  any  proof  of  your  claim,  and  I 
sha'n't  permit  it,"  said  Forrest,  promptly.  "  If 
you  have  any  proof,  any  claim,  show  it." 

The  stranger  made  no  audible  reply,  but  kept 
up  an  indistinct  mumbling. 

"  Let  me  see  your  bill  \ "  asked  Forrest. 

"  O— I— didn't  bring  it." 

"  Yery  well,  when  I  see  it  we  will  consider 
it." 

"  O,  no  offense  ! "  said  Yarney,  adopting  a 
quieter  tone  ;  "  no  offense  !  You  might  some 
time  look  at  his  papers.  Where  do  you  keep 
them?     Have  you  got  them  handy  ?  " 

Here  Forrest  looked  toward  the  head  of  his 
bunk,  and  the  spectacles  followed  that  look  im- 
mediately. Griffin  was  quick  enough  to  notice 
this. 

"  Well,  they  are  handy  enough,"  replied  For- 
rest, slowly,  enumerating  rapidly  in  iiis  thought 
the  four  business  documents  which  his  father 
had  prepared.  Two  were  statements  about  a 
few  small  debts,  but  none  of  these  were  due  one 
"  Yarney."  A  third  recognized  Forrest  as  his 
son,  and  so  his  heir  to  any  possessions  left  be- 


332       Drummer- Boy  of  the  R'ippahannock. 

hind,  and  to  any  interest  he  had  in  any  "  Hooper 
property,"  which  Aunt  Hiildah  well  knew  to  be 
of  importance.  A  fourth  was  a  declaration, 
properly  witnessed,  that  "  Daniel  English  "  had 
not  signed  his  name  to  any  paper  purporting 
that  he  had  witnessed  a  surrender  of  the  "  great 
meadow,"  or  any  other  part  of  Captain  Frye's 
property,  to  Gilbert  French.  This  document 
had  not  been  sent  home,  but  its  contents  had, 
and  jSTanny  wrote  that  it  had  kept  in  a  very 
pacific  state  of  mind  Gilbert  French's  special 
clerk,  doing  business  as  Gilbert's  agent  in  his 
absence. 

These  documents  Forrest  now  recalled,  and 
knew  they  were  in  the  package  of  valuables  at 
the  head  of  his  bunk,  but  no  Yarney  was  men- 
tioned in  any  of  them. 

"  jS^othing  against  one  Yarney  or  in  Yarney's 
favor;  nothing  at  all,"  said  Forrest,  looking  to- 
ward the  head  of  his  bunk.  Yarney  looked 
where  Forrest  looked.  Griffin  noticed  this 
again. 

Yarney  seemed  to  be  entirely  satisfied,  for  he 
rose  and  said  he  must  go. 

"  Beg  pardon,  but  look  out ! "  exclaimed 
Griffin,  fearful  that  the  "  ostrich's  "  head  would 
strike  and  carry  away  the  humble  hut-roof. 

"  0 — I    forgot    something !  "  and    down   the 


In  the  Army  Log-TIut.  333 

ostrich  dropped.  ''  Get  some  water  and  sugar. 
I  want  to  treat !  " 

The  drummer-boy,  who  liad  been  accustomed 
to  take  sides  so  readily,  stepped  back  as  he  saw 
Yarney  produce  a  iiask.  He  knew  Griffin's  in- 
firmity and  was  sorry  to  see  this  temptation 
confronting  hira. 

"  Looks  like  the  evil  one !  "  tliought  Forrest, 
stirring  not  to  produce  either  of  the  desired 
articles  and  showing  an  intensified  look  of  dis- 
gust. Griffin  had  caught  the  odor  of  the  liquor 
and  had  stepped  forward  to  get  the  water  and 
see  if  any  of  that  precious  commodity,  sugar, 
might  be  on  the  premises.  He  saw,  though, 
Forrest's  look,  and  hesitated. 

"Don't— don't  you  want  any,  Bub?"  asked 
Griffin. 

"No,  I  thank  you." 

"Jest  a  sip.  Bub,"  pleaded  Griffin. 

"No,  I  thank  you!"  said  Forrest,  earnestly, 
and  looking  intently  at  Yarney,  who  had  begun 
to  pour  the  whisky  out  of  his  flask  into  Griffin's 
dipper. 

"Why,  what  makes  ye  look  so?  What  do 
3^ou  see  ? "  asked  Griffin. 

"  O — I — I — "  Forrest's  hesitating  tongue 
halted. 

"  Tell  away,  boy,  tell   away !  "  said  Yarney^ 


33  4      Drum :t i cr-Boy  of  the  Rappahannock. 

wliOj  in  Forrest's  eyes,  seemed  more  like  the  evil 
one  than  ever. 

"Well,  I  seem  to  see  an  old  distillery  at  home, 
and  tlie  lires,  and  the  still  like  a  serpent  twisted, 
and  the  men  going  about  in  the  liglit  like 
demons,  and  once  I  saw  a  woman  crying  in  the 
dusty  old  counting-room — " 

"  Ha-lia-ha ! "  yelled  the  ostrich,  throwing  up 
his  great  head  of  bushy  hair  and  his  sharp 
spectacles,  and  then  opening  his  mouth  wide,  as 
if  he  were  about  catching  something  exceed- 
ingly funny  or  exceedingly  wise,  or  both,  and 
wanted  to  swallow  all  he  could. 

"  You  ever  see  a  distillery,  really  ? "  he  asked. 

"Yes,  sir;  and  I  know  what  misery  it 
makes." 

"  Yes,"  said  Griffin,  soberly,  "  I  know  about 
it,  too.  I  had  a  father  who  worked  in  a  dis- 
tillery—" 

He  sighed  and  added : 

"  And  it  made  trouble  enough." 

"  O,  well,  let  it  go,"  urged  Yarney.  "  There 
is  no  distillery  down  here.     Take  some  !  " 

"  No,  but  we  can  make  the  appetite  down  here 
that  can  only  be  satisfied  by  having  distilleries 
at  home,"  said  Forrest. 

"Take  it!"  petulantly  exclaimed  Yarnej', 
and  shaking  his  head. 


In  the  Army  Log-Hat.  335 

Disregarding  Forrest  lie  pushed  the  whisky 
and  water  toward  Griffin. 

'•  JN" — 1) — no  !  This  joung  feller  wouldn't  like 
it,"  said  Griffin. 

"  Didn't  think  I  should  get  into  a  temperance 
meeting  to-night.  The  young  fanatic ! "  ex- 
claimed Yarney,  rising.  "  Well,  if  you  will  only 
pay  me  what  your  father  cheated  me  out  of — " 

"  Don't  you  say  that !  "  cried  Forrest.  "  Let's 
have  your  proof  !  " 

"No,"  added  Griffin.  "Don't  talk  that  way. 
The  door  might  come  close  up  to  you  all  of  a 
sudden  and  you  find  yourself  outside." 

"  O,  well !  Think  I'll  be  going,  if  I  can't  have 
civil  treatment,"  said  the  ostrich,  giving  one 
stride  which  took  him  to  the  door,  and  then  he 
bowed  to  pass  out. 

"  Sa}^ !  Are  you  the  new  sutler  ? "  asked 
Griffin.     "Goin'  to  have  one,  you  know." 

"  No  matter  what  I  am.     I  am  not  a — cheat." 

Griffin  was  rushing  after  him,  but  he  disap- 
peared quickly  in  the  dark.  Griffin  came 
back,  and  the  two  drummers  silently  contem- 
plated the  fire,  which  was  now  roaring  and 
flashing. 

"  Let  him  go ! "  at  last  remarked  Griffin. 
"  Pleasanter  to  talk  about  the  fire  and  look  at  it. 

Abominable  scamp ! " 

22 


336     Drummer-Boy  of  the  Rappahannock. 

"  Yes ;  a  rascal.  Hold  on  !  Lee  me  do  that. 
I'll  empty  that  whisky  and  water  and  wash 
your  dipper,  Cy." 

"  Thankee,  Bub." 

When  Forrest  came  into  the  hut  again,  he  ap- 
proached the  "  old  man  "  and  said  : 

"  I  wish  you  would  do  one  thing,  Cy." 

"What  is  that?" 

"Promise  you  won't  touch  whisky  or  any 
thing  of  the  kind  ever." 

"  Pretty  stiff  pledge,  that.  What,  never  take 
it?" 

"No,  never." 

Griffin  shook  his  head. 

"Too  long  a  time.  Put  it  easy,  say  a — a — 
month." 

"  Could  you  go  it  a  day  ?  " 

"  A  day  ?     O,  land  !     Of  course  I  could. 

"Well,  to  keep  it  a  year,  or  five  years,  or  al- 
ways, you've  only  got  to  go  a  day  at  a  time. 
That  is  all!" 

"  So  it  is  !    Never  thought  of  that.  Only  a  day 
at  a  time  !     Does  seem  as  if  I  ought  to  go  that." 

"  Give  us^your  hand  on  it.     A  day  at  a  time ! 
Come,  Cy ! " 
*   "Well!     Here  goes!" 

And  the  two  hands  met,  there  before  the  fire 
in  that  army-cabin  by  the  Rappahannock. 


In  the  Army  Log-Hut.  337 

That  night  Griffin  did  sometliing  unusual. 

"  Say,  Bub,  one  good  thing,  thej  say,  helps 
on  another.  Taking  that  pledge  moves  me  to 
say  it.  Where's  your  Bible?  Guess  I'll  read 
a  chapter." 

Forrest  handed  him  Nanny's  Bible,  and  the 
big  drummer  was  soon  bending  over  a  psalm. 

That  night  Forrest  did  not  sleep  readily  after 
he  had  gone  to  his  bunk.  He  lay  in  silence  listen- 
ing to  the  winct  roaring  through  the  Falmouth 
forests.  Then  it  sank  lower,  lower,  and  he  heard 
drops  pattering  on  the  roof.  Griffin  was  some- 
thing of  a  weather-prophet.  He  had  expected 
rain,  and  had  said  : 

"  Bub,  goin'  to  have  some  wet,  and  Fll  spread 
our  rubber  blankets  on  the  outside." 

Upon  the  rubber-blankets  Forrest  heard  the 
rain  dripping.  He  had  a  grateful  sense  of  se- 
curity. It  was  an  hour  inclining  one  to  medi- 
tation, and  Forrest  lay  there  a  long  time,  as  it 
seemed  to  him,  in  deep  thought.  Since  he  had 
come  into  the  army,  life  had  enlarged  into  such 
a  great  reality.  It  was  so  much  wider  and 
deeper  and  higher  than  any  thing  he  had  ever 
imagined  it  to  be  when  his  home  was  just  in  a 
corner  by  the  sea.  O  that  life  was  so  little,  so 
little !  And  he  was  only  a  boy  then,  thinking 
about  such  small  subjects  as  hoeing  the  corn 


338      Drummer- Boy  of  the  Rappahannock. 

ill  the  patch  back  of  the  barn,  or  pounding  a 
piece  of  iron  in  the  shop,  or  driving  up  to  the 
Port  with  a  load  of  potatoes.  And  here  he 
was — a  part  of  a  great  tragic  niov^enient  that 
was  to  settle  the  destiny  of  a  nation  I  He  had 
seen  what  a  battle  was — and  O  it  was  awful ! 
He  had  been  wounded.  He  had  been  in  the 
hospital.  He  had  been  through  so  much  and 
changed  so  much  that  he  wondered  if  his  friends 
would  know  him.  Would  Nanny,  with  her  eyes 
so  full  of  knowledge,  recognize  him  ?  Wouldn't 
Miranda  Jane  Bowser  exclaim,  "  Do  tell!  This 
ain't  you?"  And  Gilbert  French,  he  would 
not  look  down  upon  and  despise  Forrest  Hoopur 
now.  Such  a  wonderful  change  in  his  life  had 
taken  place,  making  him  a  man.  T]ien  lie  had 
found  his  father,  who  had  won  an  honorable 
name  and  died  gloriously.  If  he  could  have 
lived  Forrest  would  have  proved  his  gratitude 
to  the  parent  who  twice  had  saved  his  life.  A 
home  witli  Nanny  and  his  father  would  have 
been  so  pleasant !  Forrest  was  soi-ry  this  could 
not  be.  He  was  glad,  though,  that  he  could 
be  with  his  father  in  his  last  dying  moments. 
That  had  been  an  abiding  comfort  to  Forrest. 
Above  all  things  else,  too,  he  had  found  liis 
heavenly  Father.  That  had  enlarged  Jiis  ex- 
perience and  greatened  his  range  of  thinking, 


In  the  Army  Log- Hut.  339 

It  had  let  him  out  into  a  life  where  the  sky 
went  up  so  very,  very  high,  and  the  soft,  blue 
horizon-line  stretched  so  far  away.  With  the 
great  Father  filling  all  this  space  he  had  come 
into  communion,  and  it  gave  such  a  reach  to 
life,  such  meaning.  It  set  him  to  thinking,  far 
more  profoundly  than  when  lie  left  home,  about 
this  war  in  which  he  had  engaged.  If  God  were 
interested  in  the  life  of  Forrest  Hooper,  which 
comparatively  was  so  small,  must  he  not  be 
sometlihig  more  than  a  spectator  of  the  life  of 
the  nation — so  vast  and  far-reaching  ?  And  if  he 
were  a  just  and  great  God  would  he  not  some- 
how take  ont  of  the  way  that  great  evil,  slavery, 
which  was  at  the  bottom  of  the  war  ?  Would 
not  the  evil  terminate  in  good  ?  Forrest  recalled 
the  life  of  the  day  that  was  now  over.  It  made 
such  an  impression  on  him — that  appearance  of 
the  ostrich,  as  Griffin  nick-named  him.  The 
man's  voice  Forrest  seemed  to  know.  It  so  in- 
fluenced him  that  he  thought  of  the  man  as  a 
voice  in  a  tall  frame,  a  voice  under  an  immense 
head  of  hair,  a  voice  behind  those  devouring 
spectacles.  Forrest  could  not  think  of  the 
stranger  as  one  Yarney,  but  as  one  Voice  that 
he  had  somewhere  heard.  He  did  not  like  to 
hear  it,  and  he  preferred  to  hear  the  rain  and 
think  of  something  else.     He  preferred  to  think 


340     Drummer-Boy  of  the  Rappahannock. 

how  tliis  evil  one's  attempt  to  get  whisky  down 
the  throat  of  Griffin  had  ended  in  Griffin's  re- 
fusal to  take  it,  and  subsequently  in  Gritlin's 
promise  never  to  drink  liquor.  That  was  a 
pleasant  conclusion  to  the  unpleasant  preface  of 
that  evening,  the  evil  ending  in  the  good. 
Might  not  other  things  have  a  like  termination  ? 
Might  not  this  great  rebellion  that  Forrest  had 
come  to  suppress  end  in  obedience?  Might  not 
slavery  end  in  freedom  ?  Forrest  had  struck  a 
path  pleasant  to  follow.  He  saw  great  processes 
of  evil  leading  on  to,  preparing  for,  introducing, 
good.  Behind  the  process  he  saw  God.  This 
was  veiy  comforting.  It  was  a  pleasant  strain 
of  thought,  that  helped  out  tlie  music  of  the 
rain  on  the  roof  of  the  hut. 

"  Yes,  evil  to-night  ended  in  good,"  said  the 
drowsy  drummer. 

But  there  was  the  evil  one  left.  How  did  the 
evening  terminate  for  him  ?  He  went  to  the 
tent  of  the  new  sutler  vowing  vengeance. 


The  Negro  Cabin  in  the  Hollow.        341 


CHAPTER  XX. 

THE  NEGRO  CABIN  IN  THE  HOLLOW. 

^'-  T  THmK  I  will  take  a  walk  out  through  the 
_L     woods,  Cy,"  said  Forrest  one  noon.     "  It 
is  such  a  pleasant  day." 

"  Good  luck  to  ye,  Bub.  Don't  let  the  rebs 
gobble  ye  up." 

"  JSTone  on  our  side  of  the  river." 
"  You'll  find  'em  if  you  go  far  enough." 
"  Might   say,  if    you  keep    on    going  north 
you'll  come  to  the  North  Pole." 

"  I  would  like  to  have  a  chance  to  go  north. 
I  know  where  I  would  fetch  up." 
"  So  would  I." 

Life  was  monotonous  in  this  big  city  of  log- 
huts,  where  the  only  occupation  was  to  obey  the 
bugle-calls  to  various  camp  duties,  none  of 
which  seemed  to  bear  directly  on  the  great 
question  of  closing  up  the  war  speedily.  How- 
ever, in  the  quarters  of  "The  Twins"  there 
was  an  effort  made  not  to  growl,  but  patiently 
wait  until  campaign  weather  set  in,  and  good, 
effective  work  could  be  done.     This  pleasant  day 


342      Drummer-Boy  of  the  Rappahannock. 

Forrest  resolved  on  a  stroll  inside  the  Union 
lines. 

"  There  is  Yarney  !  "  he  said,  as  he  passed  the 
tent  of  the  new  sutler,  "  He  is  as  big  a  mystery 
as  ever." 

During  the  war  "the  sutler"  was  a  promi- 
nent personage  in  the  camps.  He  was  a  civilian, 
appointed  by  due  authority,  and  allowed  to  fol- 
low the  army  and  supply  the  troops  with  various 
necessities  and  comforts  in  addition  to  army  sup- 
plies. But  for  value  received  there  was  a  good 
price  paid  out.  Butter,  at  one  time,  was  dealt 
out  at  the  rate  of  a  dollar  a  pound,  and  a  like 
weight  of  cheese  brought  fifty  cents,  and  a  can 
of  condensed  milk  was  valued  at  seven ty-iive 
cents.  I  can  taste  to  this  very  day  an  apple 
obtained  of  a  sutler  in  the  Army  of  the  Poto- 
mac, and  I  ate  it  closer  down  to  the  core  than 
any  school-boj'  could  have  done.  Three  apples, 
that  autumn,  brought,  I  think,  twenty  five  cents. 
Sutler  prices  were  classified  as  high,  but  it  nnist 
be  remembered  that  it  was  hard  to  obtain  goods 
and  transport  them,  and  that  the  value  of  the 
"scrip-money  "  used  in  those  days  was  much  less 
than  that  of  our  peace-currency.  The  new 
sutler,  A-^arney,  was  not  popular.  Undoubtedly 
he  was  a  screw.  "The  Twins"  regarded  him 
as  a  knave. 


llie  N'egro    (Jahlii  in  the  Hollow.         343 

"  And  what  is  tlie  trouble  now  ?  "  wondered 
Forrest,  as  he  slowly  sauntered  by  Yarney's 
tent  and  through  the  open  door  saw  the  limited 
stock  of  dry  goods,  eatables,  and  other  com- 
modities. 

"  That  is  a  captain,"  reflected  Forrest,  "  and 
he  and  Yarney  are  having  a  pretty  earnest  talk." 

Earnest  ?     Spiteful,  angry,  hot ! 

"  I  think  you  sell  liquor,"  charged  the  officer. 
"  Fact  is,  I  know  so." 

"  Who  told  you  ?  Let  me  have  specific 
charges,"  replied  Yarney. 

Here  he  lifted  his  big  bush  of  hair  and  saw 
Forrest  halting. 

''  You  w^ant  any  thing  ? "  angrily  yelled  the 
sutler. 

"I  want  to  see  this  man  alone,"  said  the  offi- 
cer to  Forrest,  who  was  properly  saluting  him. 

"  Yery  well,  sir,"  replied  the  drummer,  mov- 
ing on,  saying  to  himself,  "  Two  such  hints  that 
a  man  is  not  wanted  are  enough." 

Forrest  strayed  through  the  forest,  and  the 
farther  he  went  the  more  strongly  he  was  in- 
clined to  stray  farther  still.  The  day  was  mild. 
The  ground  was  bare.  The  air  had  a  tonic-like 
effect. 

'•  Where  are  the  pickets?"  wondered  Forrest. 
''  I  can't  have  got  beyond  them,  can  I  % " 


344       Dnimmer-Boy  of  the  Rappahannock. 

He  could  not  say  positively,  but  he  did  not 
believe  that  he  had  slipped  past  the  picket-line. 
There  were  many  that  contrived  to  slip  away 
in  that  fashion  during  the  war,  and  who  made 
tlie  utuiost  of  this  advantage,  never  coining 
back, 

"  Think  I  will  turn  now,''  said  Forrest.  Then 
he  stopped.     "  What  is  that  ?  "  he  asked. 

Down  in  a  hollow,  at  his  left,  he  saw  a  cabin 
such  as  a  colored  family  might  occupy. 

"  Looks  empty,"  thought  Forrest.  Then  he 
had  a  natural  curiosity  to  know  more  about  this 
empty-seeming  cabin.  He  went  up  to  the  closed 
door  and  knocked.     I^obody  answered. 

The  sun  was  pouring  around  the  door  a  Hood 
of  golden  warmth,  and,  as  Forrest  was  weary,  he 
could  not  resist  the  temptation  to  sit  down  on  a 
chopping-block  near  the  door.  Taking  the  va- 
cant seat  he  sunned  himself  there  at  the  door, 
and,  looking  up,  wondered  if  there  might  not  be 
a  direct  road  home  to  camp.  Suddenly  he 
heard  voices  in  the  cabin. 

"  Ah,  indeed  I  Somebody  is  inside,  after  all. 
Think  I  will  knock  and  ask  about  the  way  to 
camp.  Blacks  live  here,  and  'twill  be  safe 
enough,"  concluded  the  drummer. 

Rap  !  rap  !  rap  ! 

The  voices  were  instantly  hushed. 


The  Negro   Cabin  in  the  Holloio.        345 

"That  is  funny!  Are  they  afraid  of  me?" 
wondered  Forrest. 

Rap  !  rap  !  rap  ! 

No  resf)onse. 

Then  Forrest  said,  "  Colored  folks  are  all 
friendly  to  our  side,  and  I  can  fetch  thera." 

He  raised  his  voice  and  called  out  : 

"  Say  !  it  is  a  Union  soldier  !  Wants  to  know 
the  way." 

There  was  the  sound  as  of  the  dropping  of  a 
heavy  bar,  and  at  the  door,  partially  lield  open, 
appeared  the  scared  while  kindly  face  of  a  col- 
ored man. 

"  Beg  pardon,  massa !  Ye  wan'  to  know  de 
way  ?     Dat  paf  dar  yer  bes'  paf." 

"  I  came  that  way.  No  shorter  way  back  to 
the  Union  camp  ?  " 

"  Jes'  so  !     Dat  all." 

Forrest  had  a  singular  desire  to  see  the  inside 
of  this  cabin,  though  he  could  give  no  intelli- 
gent reason  for  the  curiosity,  and  he  added  : 

"  I'm  a  Union  soldier — " 

"  O,  yah  !  Dat  so  !  Good  folk,  all  de  Union 
men." 

"  Well,  just  let  me  step  inside,"  and  not  wait- 
ing for  an  invitation,  Forrest  passed  in.  He 
continued  :     "  Your  wife — O,  nobody  here  ? " 

Forrest  looked   about  the  cabin,  but  it  was 


340     Drummer- Boy  of  the  Rappahannock. 

seeiniiiglj  as  empty  as  an  egg-sliell  when  the 
chicken  has  been  liatched.  The  negro  had 
looked  distressed,  but  the  moment  Forrest  said, 
"  Nobody  liere,"  his  face  was  cleared  of  the  cloud 
of  anxiety  ruffling  it,  and  he  began  to  laugh  in 
a  happy  tone  of  relief,  "  Ah,  massa,  Wash'ntun 
got  no  wife — " 

"  Tliat  your  name  ?     Splendid  name  !  " 

"Wasli'ntun,  yah!"  and  the  present  Wash- 
ington stood  erect  in  conscious  pride. 

"  I  thought  I  heard  a  voice,"  remarked 
Forrest. 

Just  then,  his  eye  detected  a  heap  of  bed- 
clothes in  one  corner,  and  over  toward  the  wall 
of  tlie  cabin,  thrust  from  under  the  bed-clothes, 
were  the  tips  of  four  fingers — white ! 

"  Ah,"  said  Forrest,  promptly  moving  toward 
this  apparently  untenanted  heap  of  clothes, 
"there  is  the  other  man,  and  it  isn't  black, 
either !  " 

"  O,  massa — O — O  !  "  pleaded  Washington, 
stretching  out  his  hands. 

The  whole  Union  army,  though,  seemed  to 
Forrest  to  be  inside  of  liim,  and  he  felt  that  an 
inspection  must  be  made.  Besides,  there  was 
the  prospect  of  an  adventure,  and  Forrest  wel- 
comed it  as  a  gull  does  the  sight  of  the  broad 
Atlantic.      He  did  not  take  into  consideration 


The  Negro   Cahin  in  the  Holloto.        347 

the  fact  that  a  powerful  Confederate  might  be 
hiding  away  under  the  bed-clothes,  but  cour- 
ageously went  forward  and  lifted  the  clothing. 
There  he  eaw  a  young  man  about  his  own  size 
and  age.  He  was  dressed  in  the  Southern  gray. 
Forrest  did  not  have  any  thing  to  fear  from  this 
hide-away,  for  he  was  deadly  pale,  very  thin, 
and  evidently  was  sick.  His  eyes  were  sunken 
and  hollow,  and  had  a  tired,  worn  look. 

"  Well ! "  said  Forrest,  and  paused.  He  was  as 
surprised  as  the  young  man  in  the  bed,  but  this 
Iwdeaway  could  say  two  words  while  Forrest 
had  only  breath  for  one. 

"  You  satisfied  ?  "  asked  the  young  stranger. 

"  You  sick  ? "  asked  Forrest. 

"Don't  I  look  so?" 

"  Yes." 

There  was  then  an  awkward  halt  in  the  con- 
versation. The  colored  populace  in  the  rear, 
though  numbering  only  one,  showed  fright 
enough  for  a  dozen,  and  stood  wringing  his 
hands,  muttering,  shaking  his  head. 

"  Wliat  has  got  to  be  done  ? "  thought  Forrest. 
"Arrest  him '^  Lug  him  to  camp?  Stay  here, 
shall  I,  on  guard  ? " 

"Well,"  interrupted  the  young  Confederate, 
"  w^hat  are  you  going  to  do  about  it?  You 
have  a  prisoner,  it  is  true,  but,  sir,  you  haven't 


348     Drummer-Boy  of  the  Rappahannock. 

got  much  of  a  prize.  You  might  take  me  on 
your  back." 

This  made  Forrest  laugh,  and  a  smile  bright- 
ened the  sad,  dark  ej-es  of  the  young  man  also. 
Washington,  though^  was  gloomy  as  the  Arctic 
Ocean  in  a  tempest. 

"  Sorry  to  see  you  sick,"  said  Forrest,  to  whom 
occurred  the  thought  that  if  he  prolonged  the 
conversation  some  course  of  action  might  suggest 
itself  to  him. 

Forrest's  expression  of  regret  touched  the 
young  stranger, 

"  Yes,  sick  enough  !  If  my  father's  old  serv- 
ant—" 

"He?"  asked  Forrest,  nodding  toward  the 
still  perturbed  ^Yashington. 

"Yes.  He  has  been  in  the  De  Witt  fam- 
ily-" 

The  young  Southerner  stopped  abruptly  and 
tried  to  turn  over. 

"  De  AVitt  ?  "  thought  Forrest.  "  Where  have 
I  heard  that  name?  Sounds  as  if  I  had  heard  it 
before." 

When  he  saw  the  young  soldier  trying  to 
turn,  he  stooped  and  kindly  said,  "  Let  me  turn 
you ! " 

"Xo — no !  Washington  !  "  angrily  called  out 
the  Southerner. 


The  Negro   Cabin  in  the  Hollow.         349 

"  Yah,  massa  !  I'll  jes  turn  ye  !  Da,  da,  fur 
ye!  So — now,  easy!  Dar!  Feel  better,  don' 
ye  ?     A  heap  better,  lioney  ? " 

The  young  man  nodded,  and  then  panted 
heavily,  as  if  every  little  movement  wearied  him 
He  made,  though,  a  sudden  effort  and  pulled 
the  ragged  quilt  over  his  head  as  if  to  shut  out 
the  sight  of  a  Yankee,  Forrest  had  not  yet  de- 
cided upon  the  best  course  of  action  concern- 
ing this  unexpected  prisoner,  and  was  still  think- 
ing over  what  he,  the  Union  army,  had  better 
do.  His  generous  nature  led  him  to  break  out 
into  the  exclamation,  "  Poor  fellow  !  It  tires 
you." 

"Ef,  ef,  massa,"  said  Washington,  turning 
and  bowing  to  Forrest,  "ye  could  gib  him  a  sip 
of  water  out  ob  yer  canteen !  Our  water  hab  a 
mizzable  taste." 

"  O,  yes,  certainly  !  " 

Forrest  took  off  his  canteen,  the  soldier's 
invariable  companion,  and  handed  it  to  Wash- 
ington. 

"  I  have  got  some  bread  in  my  haversack  and 
you  could  toast  it,  if  you  want  it.  You  are  wel- 
come to  it," 

"  Tankee,  massa !  He  don'  hab  much  ob  a 
hanker  for  inos'  t'ings  dese  yer  days,  but  dat 
bread  am  lubly.     Tankee  !  "    . 


350     Drummer- Boy  of  the  Rappahannock. 

"If  I  liavc  any  tiling  else,"  said  Forrest,  feel- 
ing in  his  haversack,  "if — O  there!  Afraid  I 
have  nothing  but  these !  " 

He  here  pulled  out  several  leaflets  and  two 
illustrated  religious  papers.  These  had  been 
distributed  through  the  agency  of  that  splendid 
servant  of  good,  the  Christian  Commission. 

*'  I'll  put  some  of  these  in  my  haversack,"  he 
said  to  Griffin  one  day.  "It  is  a  kind  of  seed- 
corn,  and  it  won't  do  any  harm  to  take  them 
along  and  I  may  do  some  good  with  them." 

"I  expect  yon'U  get  to  be  a  chaplain,  some 
day.  Bub,"  replied  Gi-iffin. 

Some  of  tliis  seed-corn  Forrest  now  laid  on 
the  heap  of  bed-clothes  before  him. 

"  May  be  something  in  that  to  help  along 
folks  in  trouble,"  remarked  Forrest.  "  Good 
reading,  you  know.  I  don't  doubt  but  there  is 
something  there  that  will  help  any  body  in 
trouble." 

All  this  time  an  interesting  movement  was  in 
progress  among  the  bed-clothes.  At  the  men- 
tion of  the  word  "  canteen,"  the  quilt  came  off 
the  black,  curly  locks.  When  Forrest  said 
bread,  the  quilt  was  pulled  off  the  shoulders. 
When  Forrest  began  to  shower  down  his  tracts 
and  held  out  his  papers  bright  with  illustrations, 
the  quilt  was  thrown  resolutely  back,  and,  with 


Tlie  Negro   Cabin  in  the  Hollow.         351 

a  strong  effort,  turning  his  head,  the  Southerner 
asked  :^"  You  that  kind  of  folks  1 " 

"What,  sir?" 

"  You  a  Christian  ?  " 

"I  try  to  be — want  to  be.  I  am  going  to 
take  a  stand  that  v/aj  whenever  I  get  a  chance. 
Don't  mean  to  be  ashamed  of  my  colors." 

With  an  unexpected  energy,  the  Southerner 
cried,  "  Washington,  put  up  that  bar ! " 

The  old  colored  servant  nimbly  sprang  to  the 
door,  and  laid  across  it  a  stout  oaken  bar. 

"  There  !  Now  I  am  going  to  tell  the  whole 
story,  if  you  are  that  kind  of  a  man ;  and  from 
your  talk  I  think  you  feel  as  I — do— too — " 

"  Don'  yer  talk  too  much,  honey,"  said  Wash- 
ington affectionately. 

"  I_ril  try  to  be  careful.  You  might  let  me 
have  a  drink  again  out  of  that  canteen.  Didn't 
know  Union  water  tasted  so  good." 

"  Splendid  !  "  said  Forrest  enthusiastically. 

"  Now  I  will  tell  you  my  story.  I  belong  to 
the  Confederate  army,  born — born  in  the  South, 
but  living  in  the  Xorth  the  most  of  ray  life. 
My  name  is  Arthur  De  Witt  — " 

Forrest  started  up. 

"Hold  on  !  I  have  been  trying  to  locate  that 
name.  'Tisn't  likely  it's  the  same  family,  but 
an  old  ladv's  vacht  was  wrecked  off  our  farm — 
23 


352      Drummer- Boy  of  the  Rappahannock. 

we  live  by  the  sea — and  she  came  from  the 
neighborhood  of  New  York  city,  and  liad  a 
granddaughter,  Belle — " 

"That's  it;  that's  it!" 

"  And  you  are  Arthur  !  Then  there  is  some- 
thing in  my  haversack  besides  the  bread  and  the 
tracts  you  will  be  interested  in.  It's  a  letter 
from  Nanny  Frye — " 

"Nanny  Frye?" 

The  drummer-boy  blushed. 

"She  is  a  friend  of  mine." 

"O!— O!— I  see—" 

"  She  was  coming  out  here,  and  went  to  Mrs. 
De  Witt's  first,  but  her  Aunt  Huldah's  sickness 
stopped  it,  and  she  went  back.  She  wrote  me, 
though,  that  she  saw  Belle,  and  she,  thinking 
Nanny  was  coming,  told  her,  if  she  should  see 
Arthur  De  Witt—" 

Arthur  was  now  reddening. 

"  Told  her  to  look  after  him." 

"  Did  she  ?     Let  me  have  your  hand." 

The  poor  fellow's  nerves  were  too  weak  for 
much  self-control,  and  he  began  to  cry. 

"  Dar,  honey,  dar !  Hush-sh  !  "  said  Washing- 
ton, kindly  bustling  up  to  the  old  bed.  "Ye 
got  'mong  yer  own  folk  !  Now,  hush-sh-sh  !  " 
And  the  old  servant  sitting  on  the  bed  folded 
his  arms  about  Arthur  as  if  he  were  a  baby. 


The  Negro  Cabin  in  the  Hollow.  353 

"  I'll  be  careful.  This  is  good !  This  news 
tastes  better  than  the  water  from  that  Union 
canteen — " 

"  Bes'  water  in  de  worl',  chile.  I'se  go  fur  de 
Union ! " 

"  Well,  this  is  good !  You  sit  down,  please. 
"We  have  one  box.  We  haven't  asked  you  to  do 
that,  but  we  didn't  know  who  you  were — " 

"  O  that  is  all  right !  I  am  Forrest  Hooper,  a 
drummer  in  the  Union  army." 

''  Take  dis  yer  cheer,"  said  Washington,  bow- 
ing profoundly,  and  tendering  an  old  black  box 
that  had  been  hidden  in  the  shadows  of  a  corner. 

Forrest  sat  down  and  Arthur  went  on  with  his 
story. 

"  I  said  I  was  mostly  brought  up  at  the  North 
by  my  grandfather  after  my  mother's  death,  and 
that  accounts  for  my  feelings,  for  I  never  felt 
fully  at  ease  in  the  Southern  army.  But  I  will 
tell  you  how  1  felt,  and  how  I  think  many  felt. 
At  the  South  there  is  a  strong  feeling  that  we 
ought  to  be  left  to  ourselves.  It  is  what  they 
call  '  State  Rights.'  Now  I  know  your  answer : 
tliat  if  every  State  goes  off  when  it  wants  to 
we  shall  be  all  flying  to  pieces ;  that  there  will  be 
no  stability ;  that  there  is  danger  of  continual 
splitting,  and  fighting,  and  bloodshed.  Yes,  I 
understand  that,  and  feel  the  force  of  it,  espe- 


354     Drummer-Boy  of  the  Rappahannock. 

ciallj  when  I  have  been  Ijing  here,  with  plenty 
of  time  on  my  hands  to  think.  Then  there  is 
slavery.  We  think  we  ought  to  be  left  to  man- 
age that.  And  I  know,  too,  how  you  Northern- 
ers feel  about  that :  that  it  won't  be  managed  at 
all  in  the  right  way  by  the  South,  that  slavery 
will  be  stopped  under  the  Union,  and  I  see — " 

"  Dat  dis  yer  war  am  a-gwine  fur  to  stop  it," 
said  a  voice,  eagerly. 

"  I  know,  Washington  ;  I  expect  that  will  be 
the  end  of  it.  Well,  I  was  a-goiiig  to  speak  of 
Southern  feeling.  It  was  a  mistake  to  begin  the 
war,  but — it  was  started,  and  you  have  lived  long 
enough  to  know  how  it  is  when  a  thing  is  begun. 
I  held  off  long  as  I  could — was  in  business  in 
Hichmond — and  then  the  current  of  popular 
feeling  took  me  off  my  feet.  I  couldn't  seem  to 
help  it,  and  I  didn't  want  to  go  back  on  my 
friends  and  neighbors.  They  are  warm-hearted, 
you  know,  real  warm-hearted  at  the  South — " 

"  Yes,  but  you  went  back  on  those  at  the 
Korth,  your  grandmother.  Belle — " 

"  O  yes,  I  have  seen  that,  I  suppose,  a  hun- 
dred times  as  I  have  been  lying  here.  Let  me 
see.     Where  was  I  ? " 

"  Yer  habn'  tole  how  yer  fought  an'  marched 
f  roo  lick  and  fin — " 

"  No,  Washington,  the    less   said   about  my 


The  Negro  Cabui  in  tJie  Hollow.  355 

bravery  the  better.  However,  when  I  went  into 
the  war,  Washington  went  with  nie.  I  didn't 
get  a  scratch  for  a  long  time.  My  father — the 
only  one  of  my  family  living  at  the  South  when 
the  ^var  opened — my  mother  was  dead — my 
father  was  killed  at  Antietam.  I  came  up  here 
with  some  of  our  soldiers,  and  we  had  a  brush 
with  your  men,  and,  when  it  was  over,  the  next 
thing  that  I  knew  I  was  stretched  out  on  the 
field  where  we  had  fought,  and  Washington  was 
bending  over  me  trying  to  tie  up  my  wounds, 
and  he  has  done  splendidly—" 

"  O,  massa,  ye  jes'  a-wand'rin'  now  1 " 

"  Tiien  1  won't  wander.  I  was  a-going  to  say 
that  Washington  somehow  came  across  this 
cabin,  and  brought  me  here,  as  it  was  empty — 
save  a  heap  of  bed-clothes  and  a  box — and  we 
have  managed  to  keep  here  and  not  be  dis- 
covered by  any  soldiers.  Washington,  as  a 
colored  man,  could  keep  the  Union  men  out, 
and  the  Southerners,  of  course,  wouldn't  be 
likely—" 

"  Ye  hab'n'  tol'  'bout  dat  sutler." 

"  O  no  !  Washington  has  bought  some  things 
of  a  sutler.  Not  very  often,  for  it  was  risky. 
I  said  Union  men  had  been  kept  out.  That 
sutler  was  curious  to  know  where  Washington 
Went,   and  followed  him  one  day,  and  he  has 


356       Drummer-Boy  of  the  Rappahannock. 

been  inside.  He  knows  about  me,  and  wants 
money  to  keep  hushed  up,  or  he  says  he  will 
have  me  arrested  and  taken  away — •" 

"But  why  not  go  yourself?"  said  Forrest, 
who  was  now  beginning  to  get  light  on  the  sub- 
ject of  the  best  course  to  be  taken  by  him. 
"Your  friends  are  at  the  North,  your  conv^ic- 
tions  tell  you  that  you  ought  to  be  on  that 
side.  Then,  you  ought  to  liave  hospital-treat- 
ment and — " 

"  Why  not  be  arrested  ?  " 

"  Why  not  do  your  duty  like  a  man  ?  Soon  as 
you  can,  go  to  head-quarters.  The  end  will  be 
that  you  will  be  sent  to  the  hospital  now,  and  you 
will  go  North  when  you  are  convalescent — " 

"  I  hate  to  go  back  on  my  old  friends  at  the 
South !  There !  I  tell  you  it  will  be  glorious 
when  this  war  is  over,  and  it  will  be,  some  time 
and  we  shall  have  settled  all  our  troubles — and 
the  North  and  the  South  will  move  on  together, 
one  happy,  glorious  country — " 

"  We  ought  to  have  been  one  happy,  glorious 
country  without  all  this  horrid  fuss  of  a  war," 
said  Forrest,  promptly. 

"  I  know  it !  I  know  it !  'Twas  a  mistake,  but 
when  we  do  come  out  of  it,  and  we  have  settled 
every  thing  and  move  along  together,  won't  it 
be  glorious !  " 


The  Negro  Cabin  in  the  Hollow.  357 

"  Yes,  yes !     No  slavery—" 

"  Jes'  so!  jes'  so,"  said  the  dusky  Wasbiugton 

softly. 

"  We  will  be  a  grand  nation  tben,  and  we  will 
handle  every  good  cause  together,  and  put  down 
the  wrong— glorious,  Arthur !— if  I  may  call  you 
so." 

"  Certainly." 

Here  Forrest  wound  his  arm  about  the  young 
Southerner,  the  blue  and  gray  touching  in 
friendliness  and  peace.  It  was  a  sight  that  made 
"the  father  of  his  country"  wipe  his  eyes  on  his 
ragged  coat-sleeve. 

"The  only  thing  is  to  know  what  to  do  now, 
Forrest— if  you  will  let  me  call  you  so." 

"O  yes!  Say  so!  Well,  do  what  is  right. 
The  man  I  lived  with  was  great  on  taking  sides. 
If  a  thing  were  right  he  would  say,  '  Why  not 
go  over  to  that  side,  and  stand  there  ? '  Your 
Southern  friends  will  respect  your  convictions." 

"  I  don't  see  but  what  an  important  question 
is.  What  will  yoio  do  ?  I  am  your  prisoner," 
said  Arthur,  smiling. 

"  That  has  puzzled  me.  I  don't  see  but  the 
only  way  is  the  right  way— to  report  the  case  in 
camp— and  the  result  will  be  that  a  squad  will 
come  with  me  and  carry  my  prisoner  to  the  hos- 
pital.    Then  we  will  get  you  well  as  fast  as  pos- 


358     Druminer-Boy  of  the  Rappahannock. 

sible.  You  can't  have  proper  treatment  here. 
Why,  you  haven't  been  able  to  h\y  aside  your 
uniform,  for  you  have  no  clothing  in  its  place. 
Poor  feller !  Yes,  I  see  what  ought  to  be  done. 
I  clearly  think  my  duty  is  to  have  you  arrested. 
Then  you  will  get  good  treatment  in  the  hos- 
pital. At  the  end  of  that  time  what  to  do  next 
can  be  decided  then.  How  does  that  strike 
you?" 

"I  don't  see  but  you  will  have  to  refer  it  to 
your  own  judgment  and  conscience.  Only  if  I 
should  get  in  before  you,  and  conclude  to  take 
the  oath  of  allegiance,  that  would  save  you  the 
trouble  of  arresting  me.  That  would  be  a  joke 
on  you,"' 

And  the  Blue  and  the  Gray  laughed,  and  the 
*' father  of  his  country"  joined  in  the  laughter. 

"I  must  be  going  now.  But  who  is  that?" 
asked  Forrest.     "  O,  I  know." 

A  tall  form  passed  and  darkened  the  one  low 
window  in  tlie  room. 

"  Me  see  !  Dat  sutler  !  I  'spise  him  !  "  mut- 
tered Washington. 

"I'll  attend  to  him."  said  Forrest,  with  au- 
thority. "  He  sha'n't  trouble  you.  Yon  shall 
have  food  and  comforts.  I'll  leave  my  canteen 
and  wliat  bread  I  liave.  xlnd — good!  Here  is 
some  coffee  !    Take  all.    I'll  see  vou  again  soon." 


The  Negro  Cabin  in  the  Bolloio. 


359 


Forrest  turned  when  be  reached  the  door. 

"  I  ain  going  to  write  home  to-night,  and 
through  Nanny  Frye  I  can  send  a  message  to 
Belle  De  Witt.  You  want  to  send  your  love  or 
be  remembered  ? " 

"  Send  the  same  kind  of  thing  you  send  to 
Nanny  Frye  ! " 

"  All  right !     Now  for  the  sutler !  " 

When  Forrest,  though,  had  stepped  outside 
he  saw  no  sign  of  the  presence  that  had  thrown 
a  shadow  on  the  cabin-window.  Forrest  al- 
ways connected  some  liorror  with  that  tall  form, 
gliding  swiftly,  stealthily  along,  and  a  sinister 
light  flashed  out  of  his  conspicuous  spectacles, 
not  at  all  suggesting  a  sun-ray  but  the  glare  of 
the  lightning  at  night ;  one  moment  sharp  and 
dazzling,  then  vanishing  into  a  darkness  deeper 
than  ever.  But  Forrest  found  just  the  bright 
sunshine  playing  all  about  the  homely  old  cabin. 
The  sunshine  poured  down  also  upon  the  path 
through  the  woods. 

"  Don't  see  that  Yarney  anywhere  ! "  ex- 
claimed Forrest,  and,  ^Yhistling  "The  Star-span- 
gled Banner,"  he  trudged  briskly  away  toward 
the  great  martial  city  of  log-huts  by  the  Eappa- 
hannock.  Yarney,  who  had  been  hiding  behind 
an  old  oak,  at  once  followed  Forrest. 


360     Drummer- Boy  of  the  Rappahannock, 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

ARRESTED. 

'^  "XTES,  that  is  my  charge,  and  I  said  lie  ought 

±  to  be  arrested.  High  time!  Here  is  a 
conceited  young  chap  overestimating  his  im- 
portance, taking  on  airs,  though  only  a  drummer, 
and  all  the  while  giving  aid  and  comfort  to  the 
enemy  ;  taking  our  plans  down  to  a  cabin  where 
a  Confederate  officer  is  hiding  away !  Sick,  I  dare 
say,  but  bis  cabin  is  just  head-quarters  for  rebel 
officers,  who  come  there  and  take  away  the  in- 
formation this  chap  has  lugged  there.  Yes, 
sir ! " 

As  he  uttered  this,  Yarney  reached  out  his 
hand  and  darted  his  long,  bony  fingers  toward 
Forrest,  as  if  shooting  arrows  at  him. 

Forrest  at  first  looked  bewildered,  but  stand' 
ing  erect,  every  muscle,  every  nerve  in  a  state 
of  tension,  stretched  himself  up  to  his  full 
height,  and  indignantly  shouted  : 

"  It  is  false  !     It  is  false  !  " 

It  was  an  exciting  scene  in  the  tent  of  the  of- 
ficer of  the  day,  before  whom  Forrest  had  been 


Arrested.  361 

hurried  after  an  arrest  at  the  instigation  of 
Yarney,  Any  thing  disturbing  the  monotony 
of  camp-life  attracted  a  hirge  attention,  and  of- 
ficers came  flocking  into  tliis  tent.  Somebody 
else  was  drawn  thither.  He  could  not  get  any 
farther  than  the  door,  but,  bending  his  dark 
face  close  down  to  its  parting  folds,  he  caught 
every  word  uttered  by  Yarney  and  hurried 
away.  It  was  Washington,  who,  soon  after 
Forrest's  departure,  followed  him  to  obtain  a 
larger  supply  of  that  "  Union  water,"  He  took 
the  path  leading  down  to  the  cabin  in  the  hol- 
low, running  as  if  to  put  out  a  fire.  In  the 
meantime  the  group  in  the  tent,  where  Forrest, 
under  arrest,  was  confronted  by  Yarney,  lis- 
tened to  the  sutler  as  he  stood  energetically  ges- 
ticulating and  emphatically  renewing  his  charge. 

Forrest  w^as  denying  as  stoutly  as  Yarney  as- 
serted his  charge.  The  officer  of  the  day,  wliose 
name  was  Markham,  and  before  whom  Forrest 
had  been  brought,  was  considering  the  gravity 
of  the  charges,  and  whether  the  evidence  was 
sufficient  to  hold  him  at  all. 

"I  don't  want  to  hold  this  drummer  unless 
there  is  ground  for  it,"  said  the  officer.  "  The 
charge  sounds  grave,  but  I  want  more  evidence. 
What  regiment  do  you  belong  to  ?  " 

Forrest  told  him,  and  then  looked  about  the 


362     Drummer-Boy  of  the  Rcqjpahannock. 

tent  to  see  if  he  could  detect  any  face  lie  knew. 
He  suddenly  caught  a  motion  that  arrested  his 
attention.  Somebody  was  tossing-  up  his  head 
while  earnestly  talking,  giving  a  flat  yellow 
beard  a  movement  like  that  of  the  throwing  up 
of  a  shovel. 

"  Why,"  thought  Forrest,  "  if  that  isn't  the 
recruiting-oflicer.  Captain  Peirce  ! " 

Yes,  it  recalled  the  day  when  Forrest  wished 
to  follow  the  flag  and  this  recruiting-oflicer 
stopped  him  on  account  of  a  wicked,  baseless 
slander. 

Forrest  now  beckoned  to  the  recruiting-oflicer. 
The  silent  appeal  was  recognized,  and  he  came 
forward. 

"  Flow  are  you? "'  he  said,  smiling  and  extend- 
ing his  hand.  "  I  remember  you  now.  I  did 
not,  though,  when  I  flrst  saw  you.  It  is  a  bad 
scrape  that  sutler  has  got  you  into,  but  I  think 
you  are  innocent — " 

"  Of  course  I  am  ! "  said  Forrest,  vehemently. 
"  You  are  a  temperance  man,  you  told  nie — "" 

"  Yes,  I  am,  and  there  is  need  of  it,  too." 

"Well,  at  that  sutler's  tent,  this  morning,  I 
heard  an  officer  talking  with  him  about  selling 
liquor." 

"  Ah  !     Indeed  !     Pll  make  a  point  of  that  1 " 

Captain  Peirce  now  raised  his  voice  : 


Arrested.  363 

"I  want  to  say  that  I  have  met  this  young 
man  before,  wlien  he  wished  to  enlist,  and 
somebody  then — a  mean  scamp — charged  him 
with  crime — " 

"  What  has  that  got  to  do  with  this  matter?  " 
squeaked  Yarney,  testily.  "  Then  he  is  given 
to  this  style  of  thing,  is  he  ? " 

"  O,  we  will  see  !  I  was  remarking  that  this 
drummer,  Hooper,  came  with  flying  colors  out 
of  that  charge  made  against  him,  and  every  body 
gave  him  a  good  name,  i^ow,  a  good  name  is 
worth  something.  Nobody  seems  to  know  any 
thing  against  him  now.  Besides,  this  man  who 
makes  the  charges  is  himself  under  suspicion 
of  a  breaking  of  camp-rules.  I  understand 
that  some  officer  went  to  see  him  this  morning 
about  liquor-selling — " 

"  False  ! "  shouted  Yarney. 

Here  ensued  an  angry  discussion.  The  atten- 
tion of  the  company  was  all  fastened  on  the  sut- 
ler. Forrest  began  to  breathe  more  easily.  He 
felt  as  if  sudden  liberty  had  been  given  him. 
"While  the  sutler  was  under  investigation  For- 
rest was  reflecting  what  to  do.  He  was  looking 
round  for  a  friend  whom  he  could  send  to 
Griffin  and  get  liini  to  report  the  case  to  the 
colonel  of  his  i-egiment,  hoping  his  interference 
would  be  equivalent  to  a  release.     In  the  mean- 


384       Drummer-Boy  of  the  Rappahannock. 

time  the  babel  of  which  the  angry,  loquacious 
Yarnej  was  tlie  center,  continued  without  cessa- 
tion. The  officer  appeared  who  had  charged 
liim  with  the  offense  of  liquor-selhng,  and  this 
gave  interest  to  the  scene.  But  wliat  increased 
the  excitement,  though  at  first  liushing  all  noise, 
was  the  voice  of  tlie  "  father  of  liis  country  " 
at  the  door : 

"Lemme  in!  I  tell  ye,  lerame  in!  Got 
suthin'  to  tell  'em !  Don'  ye  see !  Leinme 
in ! " 

The  guard  at  the  door  gave  way,  and  in  stag- 
gered AVashington — bearing  on  his  back  Arthur 
be  Witt ! 

The  sight  of  the  black  Wasliington  and  the 
appearance  of  the  young  officer  in  gray,  a  deathly 
pallor  in  his  face,  his  emaciated  arms  clinging 
to  Washington's  neck,  stilled  every  voice. 

What  to  do  with  him,  now  that  he  had 
brought  this  precious  load  thus  far,  Washing- 
ton could  not  say,  but  looked  round  in  perplex- 
ity, his  big  eyes  rolling  from  side  to  side  of  the 
tent. 

Forrest  did  not  let  him  continue  in  his  bewil- 
derment. Springing  forward  he  took  Arthur 
in  his  own  arms  and  seated  him  gently  in  a 
camp-chair  that  Captain  Peirce  courteously 
offered. 


Arrested.  '      365 

"  Poor  fellow ! "  said  Forrest,  fanning  Artliur 
with  his  slouching  Confederate  hat.  "  What  did 
you  try  to  come  up  here  for  % " 

"What  fur?"  cried  Washington.  "  Didn't  I 
hear  'em  sayin'  what  ye  hab  done  in  de  cabin 
'bout '  giben  comfort  to  der  en' my  ? '  Ye  fed  de 
hun'ry  an'  ye  gib  water  to  de  t'irsty,  but  dat  am 
all!  Ax  massa,  gen'l'mum!"  he  added,  look- 
ing around,  not  knowing  whom  individually  to 
address. 

"  Wait  till  he  gets  rested,"  said  the  officer  of 
the  day,  looking  at  Arthur. 

"It  is  just  as  he  says,  sir,"  spoke  up  Arthur. 
"  My  servant — who  told  me — what  was  going — • 
on,  and  brought — me  here — to  testify — and  he 
has  told  the  truth —  That  man  " — he  pointed 
at  Yarney — "  would  sell  you  all  out,  I  believe — 
for  he  has  been  trying  to  twist  money  out  of 
me,  saying — " 

"Hold!'-  cried  Yarney.  "Give  me  a 
chance  !  " 

"  Tell  all !  "  said  Captain  Peirce  to  Arthur. 

By  degrees  Arthur  told  his  story — how  he 
came  to  be  in  the  cabin  ;  how  it  was  that  For- 
rest called  upon  him  ;  and  that  Yarney  had 
menaced  him  if  money  were  not  given  to  him. 
Yarney  all  the  while  looked  more  and  more 
wrathy,    mumbling    unintelligibly,    improving 


366       Drummer- Boi/  of  the  Rappahannock. 

every  oppoi'tunit}'  to  interject  a  word,  yet  mak- 
ing little  headway. 

More  and  more  did  he  seem  to  Forrest  to  be 
just  a  voice — harsh,  disagreeable,  familiar. 

"Now — now — I  want  a  chance  !  "  vociferated 
Yarney,  throwing  up  his  head  proudly  and  an- 
grily. He  had  been  throwing  it  up  repeatedly, 
elevating  abruptly  that  enormous  beard  and 
those  huge  locks.  Captain  Peirce  had  been 
watching  liim.  Suddenly,  without  a  word,  he 
stopped  this  observation  and  seized  that  beard 
with  his  left  hand.  A  second  hand  he  laid  upon 
the  locks.  Then  he  twitched  off  both  beard  and 
locks,  and  out  of  his  disguise  came — Gilbert 
French  ! 

"  O — O — O  !  "  roared  the  crowd. 

They  laughed,  they  jeered,  they  pointed  at 
him.  The  confusion  was  indescribable.  Finally 
Captain  Peirce  found  an  opportunity  to  say  : 

"  I  saw  the  fellow's  false  hair  slipping  out  of 
place,  aiid  I  thought  I  would  give  it  all  a  hoist, 
and,  gentlemen,  he  is  the  same  scamp  that  once 
before  brought  abominable  charges  against  this 
honest  young  drummer.  This  sutler  is  the  one 
to  be  put  under  arrest." 

Under  arrest  he  was  quickly  placed,  and  sub- 
sequently sent  off  in  disgrace.  Forrest  was  re- 
leased amid  many  hearty  congratulations,  Cap- 


Arrested.  367 

tain  Markhani  telling  liiin  that  this  disposition 
of  the  case  was  subject  to  revision  at  head- 
quarters, but  he  "  guessed  it  would  be  all 
right,"  and  it  was.  Arthur  was  made  comfort- 
able in  a  hospital  bed.  Washington  was  de- 
tailed to  do  camp-work,  Captain  Peirce  taking 
charge  of  him. 

In  the  log-hut  of  "  the  twins "  there  was 
much  rejoicing  that  afternoon  and  evening. 

"  Bub,"  said  Griffin,  who  had  built  a  jolly  fire 
in  the  lire-place,  and  now  flourished  the  frying- 
pan,  "  we  will  have  an  extra  supper  to-night. 
We  will  have  hard-tack  fried  in  pork,  coffee, 
and  fritters.  We  ouglit  to  rejoice.  Just  think! 
1  didn't  know  a  bit  of  the  trouble  you  were  in. 
If  I  had,  I  would  have  beat  on  the  old  drum 
the  call  to  arms,  organized  a  rescue-party  of  the 
boys,  and  we  would  have  brought  you  back  in 
less  than  no  time.  But  I  was  as  ignorant  of  it 
all  as  a  chicken." 

"  Well,  it  is  over  now.  All's  well  that  ends 
well." 

"Sartin,  Bub,  sartin!  But  what  do  ye  'spose 
I  saw  in  the  hut  this  morning  after  you  were 
gone  ?  Came  in  sort  of  sudden,  and  saw  that — 
Gob — Gib — Gilbert,  that's  it — at  the  head  of  our 
bunk.  He  seemed  to  look  uneasy,  and  said  he 
wanted  to  see  you  just  a  moment.  I  told  him 
24 


368     Drummer- Boy  of  the  Rappahannock. 

3'ou  had  gone  out.  He  said  he  Avoiild  like  to 
leave  a  circular — an  advertising  kind  of  some- 
thing—" 

"You  don't  suppose  Gilbert  French  wanted 
to  see  mj  fatlier's  papers  !  Yes,  that  is  what  his 
idea  was,"  exclaimed  Forrest,  climbing  up  into 
the  bunk. 

He  at  once  examined  the  papers  but  none 
were  missing.  Forrest  had  guessed  Gilbert's 
idea,  but  Griffin  had  come  into  the  log-hut  too 
soon  to  permit  that  desired  overhauling. 

"  I  remember  now  that,  when  lie  was  just 
plain  and  simple  Yarnej — " 

"Plain  and  simple — ha-ha!"  cried  Forrest 
laughing. 

"  When  he  was  onl^y  a  humble  citizen,  and 
not  known,  as  he  is  now,  as  a  notorious  fraud — 
when  fust  he  called  here,  and  you  spoke  about 
your  father's  papers  and  looked  that  way,  to- 
ward the  head  of  the  bunk,  his  eyes  followed 
quicker  than  a  panther  can  go  up  a  tree.  Well, 
if  he  didn't  touch  any  thing,  and  is  under  arrest, 
we  won't  worry." 

Gilbert  French  was  on  a  sly,  stealthy  hunt  after 
any  paper  in  which  Forrest  Hooper's  father  had 
testified  that  he  had  not  been  a  witness  to  any 
document  whereby  Captain  Frye  had  signed 
away  to  Gilbert  French  his  interest  in  various 


Arrested.  369 

pieces  of  property.  Knowledge  of  such  testi- 
mony was  in  Skipper  Bowser's  possession.  Gil- 
bert had  heard  of  it  and  was  desirous  to  get  hold 
of  any  such  statement.  When  he  fraudulently 
signed  the  "tramp's"  name  as  witness,  he  did 
not  think  this  homeless  wanderer  would  turn  up 
again.  After  the  tramp  had  gone  from  the  neigh- 
borhood, and  Cai^tain  Fryc  was  dead,  that  de- 
frauder  thought  he  could  push  his  iliterests  as 
audaciously  as  he  pleased. 

The  supper  that  Griffin  cooked  that  night  for 
'•  the  twins  "  was  one  of  great  excellence.  The 
frying-pan  tilled  the  old  log-hut  with  an  appe- 
tizing odor  to  which  the  coifee  added  its  fra- 
grance. Then  "  the  twins  "  lingered  after  supper 
at  their  rough  table  to  discuss  various  matters 
at  home  and  in  camp.  Forrest  finally  "  cleared 
up,"  and  evening  duties  wei'e  in  order.  For- 
rest's last  duty  w^as  to  beat  the  drum  at  "taps." 
This  was  in  order  at  nine.  All  over  the  camp 
there  would  be  clear,  echoing  bugle-calls,  and 
the  drum-taps  vigorously  given  would  follow. 
This  was  the  signal  to  the  soldiers  to  put  out  all 
lights,  to  hush  all  talk  and  every  other  sound, 
and  to  be  sure  to  be  under  their  own  roof. 

Forrest  was  on  hand  at  the  appointed  time. 
It  was  a  dark  night,  but  the  sky  had  been  swept 
clear  of  clouds  by  the  energetic  broom  of  the 


370     Drummer- Boy  of  the  Rcippahannock. 

winds,  and  the  bright  stars  shone  peacefully 
down. 

Hark  !  Hear  the  bugle-calls  echoing  far  into 
the  night !  Then  came  Forrest's  sharp,  prompt 
tap-tap-tap  on  the  old  annj  drum. '  The  lights 
ceased  to  glow  in  the  soldiers'  quarters.  Song 
and  jest  were  hushed.  Forrest  stopped  a  mo- 
ment to  look  about  him,  and  tried  to  realize  that 
lie  was  a  driimmer-boj  down  by  the  Rappa- 
hannock. Then  he  looked  up  and  watched  the 
stars.  How  the  heavens  beckoned,  as  with  many 
•  fingers  of  gold  ! 

And  God  seemed  so  nigh !  He  had  come 
near  Forrest  in  blessing  that  day.  Was  he  not 
always  near?  Would  he  not  send  peace  after 
every  storm  ?  Would  he  not  make  all  things 
work  together  for  good  to  them  that  loved  him  ? 

Yes,  God  would  do  all  this.  Only  Forrest 
wanted  in  his  heart  to  love  him  more  and  trust 
him  more,  and  obey  as  well  as  trust. 

Then  Forrest  stole  away  to  a  log-hut  and 
silently  crept  into  the  quarters  of  "the  twins." 


A  Hunt  in  the   Old  Distillery.  371 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

A  HUNT  IN  THE  OLD  DISTILLERY". 

SKIPPER  BOWSER'S  neighbor,  George, 
the  colored  iiian,  bustled  into  the  house  one 
twilight  and  asked  his  wife  a  question. 

''  Li-za}' ,  who  do  you  'spose  I  saw  flyin'  down 
the  road,  lookin'  like  the  ebil  one  himself?" 

"  Don'  use  that  'parison.  What  do  you  know, 
honey,  'bout  de  ebil  one?  I  hopes  you  ain't 
much  kwaiutcd  wid  him.  Tell  me  who  it  was, 
honey,  and  leave  out  sich  iiggers." 

Eliza's  eyes  rolled  round  like  moons  struggling 
out  of  a  white  cloud. 

"  Gilbert  French,  Li-zay  !  -  He  had  his  double 
span  hitched  on  to  his  light  buggy,  an'  he  went 
down  de  road  as  though  a  'spress  train  was  'hind 
'em.  He  no  more  noticed  me  dan  if  I  had  been 
one  ob  de  baksets  I  was  carryin'.  His  hair  was 
a  streamin',  Li-zay,"  said  George,  workin'  on  her 
susceptible  nature,  "au'  his  eyes  stickin'  out, 
an'—" 

"  Fire  comin'  out  ob  'em  \ " 

"Ob  course  not,  chile.     He   wa'n't  de   ebil 


372       Drummer-Boy  of  the  Rappahannock. 

one.  You  must  be  more  circumspections  in  yer 
ideas.  He  jest  whooped  along  in  dat  double 
team  till  he  was  clean  gone  out  ob  sight." 

"  Dey  say  he's  had  an  orf ul  time  out  in  de 
army." 

"Skipper  Bowser  say  de  'ossifers'  are  after 
him." 

Yes,  officers  of  justice  were  after  Gilbert 
French,  and  he  knew  it,  Gilbert  French's 
course  in  wrong  was  like  some  other  criminal 
careers.  At  first,  there  was  a  compromise  with 
his  conscience.  The  money  that  a  neighbor 
had  trusted  to  him  for  safe  keeping,  stolen  in 
fact,  was  not  stolen  in  so  many  words.  "  I  will 
borrow  this,"  he  said,  "  and  replace  it."  There 
followed  a  number  of  such  compromises  with 
his  conscience.  The  money  was  never  put  back, 
though.  After  awhile,  as  he  escaped  detection, 
there  was  no  such  compromise  even  in  words. 
He  was  bolder.  The  purpose  to  grasp  money 
strengthened.  The  intention  to  return  it  died 
out.  His  soul  became  a  place  where  a  mob  of 
passions  rioted.  Out  of  this  tumult  two  prom- 
inent figures  rose  up.  One  was  Nanny  Frye, 
the  other  Forrest  Hooper.  Gilbert's  feelings 
toward  Nanny  changed  from  love — if  he  ever 
had  any — to  revenge.  If  Nanny  had  favored 
his  suit,  there  certainlv   would    liave   been  no 


A  HiDit  in  the  Old  Distillery.  373 

difficulty  about  Captain  Frye's  property,  lie 
tlioiiglit.  Nanny  would  have  been  in  his  power, 
and  he  could  have  driven  on  as  he  pleased.  As 
for  Forrest,  he  was  one  who  unconsciously  had 
been  continually  standing  in  Gilbert's  path. 
Gilbert  knew  that  it  was  he  who  had  preoccu- 
pied ]^anny's  affection.  It  was  Forrest  who, 
shignlarly,  had  been  the  occasion  of  the  present 
flight.  He  had  sent  home  word  that  Gilbert's 
duties  in  the  army  had  been  disgracefully  ter- 
minated, and  also  that,  having  been  at  last  re- 
leased from  confinement,  he  was  probably  on 
his  way  to  his  old  surroundings.  This  letter 
Skipper  Bowser  showed  to  a  lawyer  who  very 
much  wanted  to  see  Gilbert  on  account  of 
various  fraudulent  transactions,  and  he  em- 
ployed two  detectives  to  follow  Gilbert,  when 
he  arrived,  and  then  arrest  him.  They  had 
failed  to  do  the  latter,  for  they  did  not  get  to 
the  train  quite  in  season  to  detain  him. 
Through  his  clerk,  Fickard,  Gilbert  heard  after- 
ward of  their  purpose,  and  he.  resolved  to  leave 
liome  again  and  flee  to  Canada.  He  was  riding 
along  on  his  way  to  the  station  when  he  saw 
the  two  detectives  of  whom  he  had  been  in- 
formed. He  allowed  them  to  pass,  then  turned 
into  a  side  street,  jumped  out,  and  left  his  team 
in  charge  of  a  stable-boy  riding  with  him   to 


374      Drummer- Boy  of  the  Rappahannock. 

bring  the  team  lioiue.  The  officers  had  spied  him, 
though,  and  quickly  turned  into  this  street — 
in  season  to  see  him  alighting  from  the  carriage 
and  slipping  down  a  dij-ty  lane  tiuit  led  to  the 
old  distillery  in  which  Gilbert  had  once  been 
interested. 

'•  There  he  is,  Billings ! "  said  one  of  the  offi- 
cers, by  name  Taintor.  "  He  has  seen  us,  I 
think." 

"  No  doubt  of  it.  He  is  crouching  by  the 
fence." 

"Let's  go  on  cautiously.  You  drop  behind 
me." 

The  fugitive  who  was  crouching  by  the  fence 
concluded  to  drop  also,  and  disappeared. 

"  Put,  Taintor !  put !  He  has  got  into  the  old 
distillery.     Follow  him  hard !  " 

The  men  started  on  a  vigorous  run.  It  was 
an  ugly  building  any  time,  but  it  looked  exceed- 
ingly ugly  that  twilight,  a  dismal  rain  shrouding 
it.  Gilbert  Frencli's  business  career  in  it  had 
been  a  failure.  It  was  nigh  a  ruin  when  he 
tried  to  run  it.  It  was  now  closed.  Once  a  John 
Quint  had  tried  to  use  a  portion  of  it  as  a  stable. 
This  last  word  upon  the  sign  had  been  washed 
by  so  many  rains  tliat  it  was  much  the  worse 
for  the  washing,  and  there  it  stared  at  you  from 
the  wall  of  the  old  distillery— that  word  "  Stab." 


A  Hunt  ill  the  Old  Distillery.  375 

It  was  singularly  appropriate  to  the  original 
mission  of  the  building,  that  had  inflicted  death 
on  the  hopes  of  so  many  men  and  women. 
The  fres  were  now  in  the  cracked  and  rustj 
furnaces,  the  roof  dropping,  and  the  windows 
smashed  in.  A  passer-by  might  have  seen  the 
eyes  of  a  rat  at  soine  neglected  window,  an- 
nouncing who  it  was  that  now  tenanted  the 
building  but  paid  no  rent.  A  i-ain  had  been 
falling  all  day,  and  the  water,  splashing  dismally 
from  the  rotting  eaves,  had  gathered  in  black 
pools  by  the  walls.  Two  of  the  town-police 
sauntered  by,  and  Taintor  secured  their  help  in 
the   search   they  were  about   to  make.      They 

gained  access  to  the  premises  in  the  same  way 
as  the  man  they  were  pursuing,  one  after  the 

other  dropping  and   crawling   under  the  fence 

dog-fashion. 

''  He  sneaked  in  that  way,"  said  Taintor. 

He  pointed  at  a  window  that  had  been  boarded 

np,  but  one  board  had  been  pulled  aside,  and, 

catching  by  one  end,  hung  helplessly  down. 
"  We  will  patrol  round  the  building  outside, 

in  case  you  staj-t  up  any  rats  or  other  vermin, 

and  drive  them,"  said  one  of  the  towm-police. 
"All  right,"  replied  Taintor,  and  he  squeezed 

through  the  black  window-hole,  followed  by  his 

companion. 


376        Drummer-Boy  of  the  Rappahannock, 

"  Dark  !  "  said  Taintor,  looking  round,  "  and 
the  holes  in  them  boarded  windows  stare  at  jou 
like  eyes.     Can  you  see  ?  " 

"  Hardly." 

"  We  ought  to  have  a  lantern." 

"  I  will  get  one." 

"  All  right,"  answered  Taintor.  "  I  will  stay 
by  while  you  bring  one." 

It  was  soon  brought,  and  the  search  began  in 
earnest.  They  went  round  the  vats,  the  furnaces, 
the  grain-bins,  and  they  saw  the  stills,  coiled, 
snake-like,  for  a  murderous  spring.  Taintor 
stopped, 

"  What's  that  noise  ? " 

"  E-ats  overhead." 

"  ISTo,  it  wasn't.  A  noise  upstairs,  and — 
that  scamp  has  gone  up  to  the  next  story ! 
There  is  a  flight  of  stairs  over  in  this  corner. 
Here,  this  way.     Come  along  !  " 

And  Taintor  led  the  way  up  a  flight  of  stairs 
that  remonstrated  and  creaked  at  every  step. 

"  Softly  as  you  can,  Billings.  Bah,  what  is 
that  ?    You  brute  !  It  was  a  rat  I  almost  grabbed." 

"Rat?  Quick!  There  is  something  else  we 
almost  grabbed.     There  he  goes  !" 

They  saw  a  form  darting  up  a  second  flight  of 
stairs,  ahead  of  them,  into  a  loft  above. 

"  Good  !     Nothing  over  him  but  the  roof  now, 


A  Hunt  in  the  Old  Distillery.  377 

and  see,  lie  is  going  through  it.  Look  out,  there 
below ! "  shouted  Taintor,  going  to  a  window,  and 
calling  to  the  men  beneath. 

"  Ay,  ay,"  came  the  sharp,  emphatic  response. 

The  pursued  had  now  reached  a  scuttle  in 
the  roof.  One  moment  his  face  halted  there, 
haggard,  bare  of  covering,  the  eyes  glaring,  the 
side-whiskers  sharp  and  pointed,  the  nose  thin 
and  long,  and  it  was  no  wonder  one  of  the 
police  below  sang  out,  "  Rat  up  there  at  the 
scuttle ! " 

The  rat  did  not  halt  there  long.  He  sjDrang  out 
upon  the  roof  and  slid  down  to  the  eaves,  drop- 
ping thence  by  an  easy  fall  to  the  roof  of  a  build- 
ing closely  joining  it.  He  very  well  knew  there 
was  another  roof  of  a  lower  building  to  which 
he  could  drop  if  necessary.  In  the  place  of  the 
rat's  face  at  the  scuttle  in  the  roof,  Taintor's 
round,  red  visage  now  appeared.  He  hesitated 
one  moment,  giving  one  look  up  to  the  dark, 
dripping  clouds,  another  down  at  the  shining, 
slipper}'-  roof,  and  then  out  he  sprang,  sliding 
down  to  the  eaves,  and  finally  dropping  on  the 
roof  below. 

"  There  he  goes!"  shouted  one  of  those  watch- 
ing beneath,  5.nd  Taintor  saw  his  man  hanging 
over  the  gutter  of  the  building,  then  dropping 
down  to  the  next  roof.    In  a  few  moments  Taintor 


378      Drarmnuv-Boij  of  the  Rappahannock. 

was  also  on  this  second  roof  i  he  next  drop  would 
be  twenty  feet  down  to  the  hard,  beaten  yard, 
ngly  flag-stones  here  and  there  protruding. 
Would  the  fugitive  make  that  drop?  Taiutor 
wondered  if  he  would  do  it,  and,  advancing 
toward  him,  was  about  to  say,  "  My  prisoner !  " 
when  over  the  eaves  went  his  man,  falling  heavily 
to  the  yard  below.  A  shout  came  from  several 
spectators,  who  had  gathered  outside  the  yard 
and  were  looking  through  the  gashes  in  the 
fence.  Its  echo  \vas  a  cry  of  horror  from  one 
of  the  town-police,  who  ran  to  pick  the  body  up 
and  now  bent  over  it. 

"  Gone  !  "  he  cried. 

"  Gone?  "  asked  Taintor  from  the  roof. 

"  Yes,  I  think  he  must  have  broken  his  neck. 
Made  a  serious  mistake  then." 

"  Well,  I  am  sorry  for  a  man  that  will  do  as 
he  has  done.  It's  the  last  of  Gilbert  French 
here.     Can't  mend  this !  " 


Swishine.  379 


CHAPTER  XXIIL 

SUNSHINE. 

IT  was  a  bright  autumn  day.  The  scenery  was 
glorious.  It  seemed  as  if  the  sun  had  deco- 
rated witli  triumphal  colors  all  the  liarvest 
land.  Kanny  Frye  was  looking  down  from  her 
chamber-window  npon  a  nook  in  the  walls  of 
tlie  old  home  that,  years  ago,  when  a  certain 
"house-keeper"  presided  over  Captain  Frj^e's 
houseliold,  had  been  given  up  to  old  cans,  broken 
crockery,  cobwebs,  dampness,  and  mildew. 

"  May  I  have  that  for  my  dominion  ?  "  IS^annj 
said  one  day  to  lier  father. 

He  smiled  and  replied,  "Yes,  for  your  em- 
pire." 

Slie  directed  tlie  rubbish  to  be  removed, 
routed  any  weeds  there ;  and  then  the  soil  was 
turned  up  and  given  over  to  tlie  scepter  of 
the  balsams,  petunias,  nasturtiums,  mignonette, 
sweet-alyssum,  and  marigolds.  A  company  of 
morning-glory  climbers  started  from  the  ground 
to  scale  the  walls  and  reach  the  windows  of 
Nanny's  room.     The  instinct  to  climb  had  been 


380      Drummer-Boy  of  the  Rappahannock. 

rewarded  at  last,  for  tendril  after  tendril  reached 
the  window-sills,  and  there  swung  out  their  blos- 
soms, as  if  regarding  Nanny's  retreat  as  a  belf  rj- 
tower  that  would  be  incomplete  without  a  chime 
of  their  graceful  bells. 

Nanny  was  singing,  this  autumn  morning. 
Her  voice  was  soft  and  low,  and  musical  as  ever. 

Skipper  Bowser  would  say,  "  If  you  were 
standin'  under  an  apple-tree  and  you  heard  that 
voice,  you'd  think  a  robin  was  thar,  buildin'  its 
nest  in  the  boughs." 

This  morning  Nanny  was  dressed  in  a  trim, 
tidy  calico,  wore  spotless  cnffs  and  collar,  and  at 
her  neck  was  a  spray  of  salvia,  its  scarlet  con- 
trasting pleasantly  with  the  white  and  blue  of 
the  calico.  Above  all  was  the  sweet,  trusty  face 
of  the  olden  days. 

She  stopped  amid  her  singing  to  look  at  two 
letters.  One  of  these  Skipper  Bowser  had  jnst 
brought  froui  the  mail,  it  was  from  Belle  De 
Witt,  and  told  her  that  Arthur  De  Witt  was 
at  her  grandmother's ;  that  it  had  taken  until 
autumn  to  bring  him  back  to  health  again,  and, 
she  was  glad  to  add,  to  his  grandmother's" home. 
Washington,  the  faithful,  had  come  with  Arthur. 

The  other  letter  arrived  a  few  days  ago,  and 
had  been  often  read  by  Nanny.  It  came  from 
the  Army  of  the  Potomac,  and  was  in  Forrest's 


Sunshine.  381 

handwriting.  He  was  still  in  the  di-uin-corps 
of  his  regiment,  though  Griffin  had  gone  into 
the  ranks  to  carry  a  gun,  and  Forrest  wanted 
to  follow  him.  Forrest  had  run  those  awful 
gauntlets  of  shot  and  shell,  namely,  Chancellors- 
ville,  the  second  Bull  Run,  and  Gettysburg,  and 
— and — it  is  true  he  had  got  a  little  "scratch," 
in  a  late  skirmish,  but  he  had  had  a  dream,  and 
thought  he  saw  Nanny  as  a  hospital-nurse  bend- 
ing over  him,  and  he  felt  better.  "  I  thought 
you  had  wings,"  he  wrote. 

Then  Nanny  laughed,  her  voice  trilling  mu- 
sically like  Skipper  Bowser's  robin  up  in  the 
apple-boughs. 

"  Wings  are  not  found  on  hospital-nurses  yet," 
said  Nanny. 

Then  Nanny  sighed,  and  said,  "O  dear! 
Poor  fellow !  1  wish  he  was  at  home.  Now 
for  churcli !  The  minister  wants  special  services 
for  our  country,  to-day." 

She  called  out  "  Good-by  !  "  to  Aunt  Iluldah 
who  was  in  her  room  sittinar  in  her  rockin2;-chair. 

"'Good-by,  dear!"  said  Aunt  Huldah. 

Aunt  Huldah  was  much  better  nowadays. 

Nanny  had  those  needed  qualities  of  nurse- 
hood — judgment,  tact,  sympathy.  She  was  an 
excellent  companion,  too,  free  from  all  intrusive- 
ness  and  yet  never  deserting  her  trust,  making 


882     Drummer- Boy  of  tJie  llappahannock. 

her  p  eseiice  felt  but  never  making  it  oppres- 
sive. Sometimes  she  and  Aunt  Huldali  had 
been  badgered  by  the  want  of  Hte's  comforts. 
How  to  Hve — simply  that  we  may  keep  body 
and  soul  together,  may  have  bread  to  eat  and 
water  to  drink — perhaps  a  cup  of  tea  or  coffee 
— may  liave  our  new  clothes  once  or  twice  a 
year,  may  have  shingles  above  us  and  a  bed 
nnder  us  at  night — all  this  may  threaten  to  turn 
life  into  serfdom.  Xanny  and  Aunt  Huldali 
had  known  days  of  worriment,  for  Gilbert 
French's  dealings  had  sometimes  made  I^anny 
feel  very  poor. 

Homeless,  houseless,  almost  friendless,  as  it 
seemed  to  her,  she  went  to  her  heavenly  Father, 
in  whom  we  have  houses  and  lands,  home  and 
friends,  and  she  had  found  a  wealth  of  blessing 
just  there.     Better  days  had  come. 

Gilbert  French  had  not  disposed  of  the  Frye 
property  he  had  worried  out  of  Nanny  with  his 
fraudulent  documents,  and  after  his  death  it 
came  into  Nanny's  liands  again,  and  with  the 
income  of  the  shop  and  the  lands  Nanny  and 
Aunt  Huldali  had  been  helped  to  a  greater  meas- 
ure  of  household  comfort. 

Forrest's  pay  Nanny  would  not  touch,  but  laid 
it  away  for  him  in  the  bank. 

She  now  left  the  house,  and  started  for  church. 


Sunshine.  383 

"I  am  to  be  organist  to-day,"  she  reflected, 
"  and  must  be  there  early." 

She  was  thinking  about  Forrest;  about  the 
wound  which  he  modestly  had  called  a  "  little 
sciratch,"  and  Nanny  was  sad.  Those  bright 
shades  of  the  landscape,  were  they  triumphal 
colors?  Had  a  victory  been  won  over  that  old 
dragon — slavery  ? 

The  war  in  the  land  went  on,  and  slavery 
might  be  hurt,  but  it  was  not  dead.  The  dragon 
was  still  strong.  The  red  on  the  trees,  was  it 
blood  from  the  awful  conflict  ?  Why  must 
there  be  such  trials?  Could  no  joy  sing  its 
psalm  without  a  oniserer^e  echoing  somewhere? 
If  we  go  up  to  a  mountain-top  of  triumph,  must 
we  also  descend  into  the  darkness  of  sorest  trial? 

She  remembered  what  Storrs  has  said  :  "  There 
were  but  three  disciples  allowed  to  see  the  trans- 
figuration, and  those  three  entered  the  gloom  of 
Gethsemane." 

Thoughtfully  entering  the  restful  little  church 
she  sat  down  at  the  organ,  for  she  was  to  play. 

Soon  after  Nanny  had  gone  into  the  church 

somebody  came    down    the    road    on   crutches. 

He  was  a  soldier.     The  army  blue  was  about 

him.      He    halted   opposite    the    church-porch 

draped  with  its  ivy,  looked  in,  and  then  entered. 

He  evidently  entered  also  into  the  spirit  of  the 
25 


384     Drummer-Boy  of  the  Rappuhannock. 

services — tlie  prayers  for  the  conutrj  and  the  ser- 
mon preached  ;  for  there  were  tears  on  his  cheeks 
at  times,  and  then  again  his  handsome  face  shone 
witli  joy.  When  the  congregation  had  been 
dismissed  he  quickly  left  and  went  round  to  the 
minister's  room,  and  then  passed  into  a  little 
recess  where  was  wont  to  stand  the  person  that 
blew  the  organ.  To-day  Skipper  Bowser  was 
performing  at  that  end  of  the  organ.  The  skip- 
per as  the  so-calltid  "  blow-boy  "  had  one  fault ; 
he  would  go  to  sleep  1 

"Will  you,  Uncle  Jerry — could  you  blow  for 
me  to-day  % "  Nanny  had  said. 

"  Sartin  ;  and  I  won't  go  to  sleep.'* 

In  one  of  two  chairs  in  the  little  recess 
l^anny  had  left  a  package  of  books,  and  with 
them  an  unsealed  letter,  directed  to  Forrest 
Hooper.  She  also  left  the  skipper  there,  but 
when  the  blue-.coated  soldier  reached  the  side 
of  the  organ  he  induced  the  skipper  to  let  him 
take  the  bellows-handle. 

"  I  can  sit  down  and  lean  my  crutcii  against  the 
wall.     Good-by,  I'll  see  you  again  1"  he  said. 

Nanny  played  on. 

The  minister  had  gone. 

Still  she  played. 

All  the  congregation  had  gone. 

She  played  on. 


Sunshine.  385 

"Skipper  Bowser  will  blow  for  me  a  little 
while  longer,  I  know,"  reasoned  Nanny.  "I 
like  to  be  alone,  and  I  feel  like  playing." 

All  of  a  sudden,  though,  the  strain  on  the 
organ  ended  in  a  miserable  squeak — k-k-k  !  It 
was  such  a  doleful  expiring  gasp ! 

"  O  dear !  "  thought  lS"anny,  "  the  skipper  has 
gone  to  sleep !  I  jjlayed  too  long !  Wonder 
how  he  will  look  asleep,  his  hands  on  the  handle, 
and  his  head  bobbing!     Let  ine  look  !  " 

Peeping  round  the  corner  of  the  organ  she  saw 
a  pair  of  crutches  leaning  against  the  wall !  She 
was  frightened,  yet  could  but  look  again,  and 
there  was  the  organ-blower,  in  the  shape  of  the 
young  soldier,  reading  the  letter  addressed  to 
Forrest  Hooper,  and  kissing  it ! 

"  O  Forrest !  "  she  screamed. 

"  Xanny,  I^anny,  dear !  I  saw  this  letter  for 
me,  and  knew  you  w^anted  me  to  read  it." 

She  forgave  him,,  and  home  they  went  side 
by  side,  he  leaning  on  his  crutches,  slowly  walk- 
ing, the  sun  shining  on  them.  They  passed  the 
quiet  church-yard,  where  Forrest  told  her  he 
meant  that  his  father's  body  should  be  brought 
home  to  lie.  They  entered  the  woods,  whose 
green  beauty  made  an  arch  for  the  road.  Ere 
the  travelers  reached  the  Frye  home  they  met  a 
happy  welcoming  group :  George,  Ehza,  Miranda 


386       Drummer- Boy  of  the  Rappahannock, 

Bowser,  and  the  skipper — waving  an  Ainericaji 
flag — crying  and  laughing  "jest  like  a  boy,'* 
Miranda  said.  At  the  old  house  Aunt  Huldah 
greeted  the  drummer. 

Then  Forrest  would  go  up  the  Lion.  Under 
that  autumn  sun,  still  glowing,  he  and  Nanny, 
side  by  side,  slowly  walked  up  the  hill.  And 
now,  looking  ahead,  I  seem  to  see  them  still 
walking  side  by  side  in  the  bright  autumn 
sunshine.  When  Forrest's  furlough  was  out 
he  went  back  to  the  war,  to  throw  away  his 
crutches  and  swing  a  rifle  over  his  shoulder. 
When  the  war  was  over  he  came  back,  a  lieuten- 
ant's straps  on  his  shoulders.  He  returned 
home  to  walk  by  ISTanny's  side  in  the  golden 
sunshine  of  a  mutual  trust,  one  day  declaring 
itself  in  a  happy  marriage  in  the  old  Frye 
home.  Into  the  future  they  went,  still  walking 
in  the  bright  sunshine,  doing  God's  will,  taking 
sides  for  the  right,  under  his  triumphant  banner. 


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